


genesis

by kinos



Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst, Cupid AU, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, angels!changgu/yanan, background yuki, cupid!hyojong, ghost!hongseok, like really fucking slow lol, lots of it!, target!hwitaek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-03-12 09:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 63,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13544184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinos/pseuds/kinos
Summary: Hyojong isn't an angel. Except, he is. Or more specifically, a Cupid.“His name is Hwitaek,” Changgu says, eyes scanning over the pages because he knows Hyojong is too lazy to bother. “23 years old, university student, lives alone, teaches piano at the community centre on the weekends.” He hums, sounding pleased, and he turns to Hyojong. “He seems nice, looks pretty cute too. It shouldn’t be a hard one.”All Hyojong has to do is flash a couple of sweet smiles and dish out some personal info of his own, most of which will be fake anyway, and he’s sure this Hwitaek guy will spill everything about his little crush, and Hyojong will know just what to do to get them together. Then he can come home again, and maybe, just maybe, Changgu will let him rest for once.





	1. “you can see me?”

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone!!! i've been meaning to start this fic for a while but i got distracted by some other things heh.... but ! since it's a new month, a new beginning, i felt like it'd be a good time to start this!! i'm actually a little nervous about posting this bc i've never really written anything in this genre? sort of? idk but i hope you all enjoy it either way! all the pentagon members _will_ appear in this, though at different times and some more than others since the story is mostly focused around certain characters but we'll see how it goes!
> 
> i can't promise constant updates bc i just started my spring semester this week and i have a lot of things to sort out, but i wanted to put up the first chapter so i can see what you all think of it so far. i will try my best to update as often as i can though bc i'm really excited for this story and i can't wait to show you all more of it!!
> 
> rated t for language and!! the title & intro are from genesis by dua lipa, i felt like the song/lyrics really suited the story so go give it a listen if you want!
> 
> anyway please enjoy!! ♡

_In the beginning, God created Heaven and Earth._

_For what it’s worth, I think that he might’ve created you first._

 

 

 

Hyojong isn’t an angel.

Or, at least, he doesn’t like calling himself one. The whole idea of angels; these ethereal beings with glowing skin and starry eyes, these pure creatures who can do no wrong; that isn’t him. Not with the dusty brown hair that always gets too messy for him to handle, the empty stare and tired scowl that make up his resting face, the random markings that are inked on his skin like it was a canvas and he was the artist. Add that to all the punishments he’s gotten for breaking rules and the fact that despite being centuries old, he’s still stranded on the lower ranks because the Council doesn’t think he’s qualified enough to be promoted. He’s definitely not an angel. Except, he is.

And Changgu never fails to remind him of the fact. Or more specifically, the _type_ of angel he is, always swinging by his room, letting himself in like he owned it, calling out an obnoxious, “Hyojongie! How’s my favourite little Cupid today?”

“You know I’m older than you, right?” Hyojong deadpans, trying to stretch his legs out to stop him from sitting on his bed – _why do they have beds anyway?_ – but Changgu’s quick, already securing a spot on the end, lying on his side with his head propped up in his palm.

See, Changgu is definitely an angel, what with his bright eyes and even brighter smile, dark hair against fair skin, looking like the epitome of beauty. On top of that, he had a soul so pure that sometimes Hyojong was worried he’d taint it just by looking at him too long. Unlike Hyojong, Changgu is the perfect angel, and oh, how he loves it.

“I know, but I’ve got a higher rank,” is what he says, flashing a cheeky grin, winking at Hyojong. “And I’m taller than you.”

Hyojong would kick him off, if not for the fact that he’d be banished from Heaven in a heartbeat if he ever harmed any of his brothers in the slightest, even if it was out of playfulness. And he knows they aren’t real brothers, far from it, really, but being with each other from the beginning of time, going through anything and everything together, there was no other word for it. They were brothers, and this particular one has claimed the title of the annoying brother.

“What do you want?” Hyojong asks, though they both know what the answer is. There were only ever two reasons why Changgu came to see him; during the rare moments where he made a mistake and needed Hyojong’s help to fix it, the only times when he would actually admit to the fact that Hyojong was older and wiser, that he knew of tricks that Changgu was yet to learn, or when he had a new assignment for Hyojong.

And when Changgu pulls out a folder that hadn’t been there a second ago, waving it in Hyojong’s face, he isn’t surprised that it’s the latter, a groan escaping his throat before he can’t help it.

See, it’s not like Hyojong hates his job, he doesn’t, but he isn’t particularly fond of it either. Sure, it wasn’t as hard as being a Guardian, constantly having to look over your target, to make sure that they’re always safe. And with humans, you had to be extra careful, because you could blink and those idiots would somehow go from being tucked into bed to being on the brink of death in the middle of a gang fight halfway across town. (Changgu’s stories from his Guardian days were always far too dramatic.) But Hyojong would kill to have a job like Yanan’s, where all he had to do was filter through the prayers that were sent up to them, to see which requests were worth their time, which were nonsense, and which were just hopeless. And yeah, Yanan’s job made it so that he could never leave Heaven because he had no reason to, but Hyojong thinks that’s a lot better than constantly being sent down to Earth to play matchmaker with those pesky little creatures.

“Can’t you give it to someone else?” Hyojong almost pleads, throwing a pitiful look at Changgu, trying to show him just how tired he is. “I just got back from my last assignment.”

The thing is, he isn’t the only Cupid up here. There’s _tons_ of them, all doing the same job that he is, so he doesn’t get why Changgu’s always coming to him whenever a new target comes up.

“It’s not my fault you’re so good at what you do,” Changgu tells him, and Hyojong would deny it, not out of humbleness, but out of the fact that he doesn’t exactly want to be known as the best Cupid out there. It’ll ruin his rep.

And really, he wouldn’t say he’s the _best._ He just tends to get his assignments done the fastest, going to whatever extremes he needs to, anything to make it happen. It helps when the targets are almost there themselves, when they just need a little guidance, that one last push to make them fall in love, but it takes some extra work when they’re clueless and stupid, which is the case more often than not with these mundanes. So yeah, he admits that his methods can get a little… _unorthodox_ sometimes, even bordering on what Changgu would call ‘unholy’, but it gets the job done, and he gets to come home.

Except every time he comes home, Changgu just shows up with another job for him. And it’s not like he can say no. It doesn’t matter that Changgu’s younger than he is, that Hyojong was literally there the day he was created, that at some point, Hyojong himself had taught him how to avoid stepping on the ends of his own baby wings, because when it comes down to it, Changgu’s a member of the Council now and Hyojong’s stuck being just another Cupid.

Changgu gives the orders, and Hyojong takes them.

So he heaves a sigh, giving him a small nod and he scoots over when Changgu excitedly crawls up to lie next to him, opening the folder so they can discuss his new mission like a couple of teenagers gossiping over celebrities in a magazine.

“His name is Hwitaek,” Changgu says, eyes scanning over the pages because he knows Hyojong is too lazy to bother. “23 years old, university student, lives alone, teaches piano at the community centre on the weekends.” He hums, sounding pleased, and he turns to Hyojong. “He seems nice, looks pretty cute too. It shouldn’t be a hard one.”

Hyojong just waves him off, taking his word for it because it’s not like he can lie anyway, and he asks, “When do I have to go?”

“Tomorrow,” Changgu answers, and before Hyojong can protest, he’s quick to say, “He’s got a little crush on his duet partner-”

“He’s a singer?”

“A music major, yeah, and he’s been crushing on the guy he’s paired up with for his performance class but it’s getting nowhere.” Changgu sits up, pulling Hyojong up to face him properly, keeping his hands in his own, squeezing just a little. “Listen, just go, take his piano lessons-”

“I already know how to play piano,” Hyojong says, and it’s the truth, because learning an instrument was one of the first lessons they had as young angels. And he definitely wasn’t one of those pretentious ones who insisted on learning how to play a harp. (Changgu plays the harp. Of course.)

“ _Take his piano lessons,_ ” Changgu repeats pointedly, ignoring his words. “Become his friend, meet his people, give him a little nudge and make it happen. It’ll take you a couple of weeks, tops. Less if you’re not such a jerk to him.”

Hyojong scowls at the insinuation, but he knows that Changgu’s right. Cases like this, decent guys like this, probably the type to help old people cross the street, they trusted people too easily, even strangers who show up to take their piano lessons out of nowhere. All Hyojong has to do is flash a couple of sweet smiles and dish out some personal info of his own, most of which will be fake anyway, and he’s sure this Hwitaek guy will spill everything about his little crush, and Hyojong will know just what to do to get them together. Then he can come home again, and maybe, just maybe, Changgu will let him rest for once.

So, despite how much he doesn’t want to go back to Earth to deal with these mortals again so soon, he says, “Alright. I’ll do it.”

Changgu lurches forward to throw his arms around him in a hug, and normally, he wouldn’t allow it, not particularly a fan of any form of affection, but if he’s going to try to get a break after this assignment, he has stay on Changgu’s good side, so he lets it happen, even reaching out to hug him back.

Then, he wriggles out of Changgu’s hold, pushing him away as hard as he can without it being counted as violence, and he says, “Now, leave me alone. I need to get some sleep before I go.”

“But we don’t sleep-”

“I’m sleeping!” Hyojong yells anyway, pulling the covers over his head, and he can almost feel the way Changgu’s eyes roll at him from across the room, but he keeps himself under there until he’s sure that the younger is gone, hearing the door click shut, and _ah_ _._

This assignment better be an easy one.

—

“You’re leaving again?”

Hyojong hears the disappointment in Yanan’s voice, sees it in the way his face falls, and it pains him to nod a yes.

“But you just got back!” the younger cries out, as if it was him who was about to be sent off. “They can’t force you to go again!”

He quirks a lopsided smile, sighing, “Yeah, well, tell that to the Council.”

That silences Yanan almost immediately, biting his tongue, because they both know he would never go against the Council, wouldn’t even dare to think of it. He was too obedient to them, too good. Not an overachiever like Changgu, but definitely not the disappointment that Hyojong was. At times, Hyojong admired that about him.

“Who put you up to this?” Yanan asks, though his tone suggests that he already knows the answer to that. “It was Changgu, wasn’t it?”

Hyojong just lifts a shoulder in answer, another half-hearted nod and Yanan scowls, or at least, as much as he can manage, his innocent features making it difficult for him to come off as anything other than sweet.

See, the two used to be close, inseparable even, what with the fact that they were created together, Yanan being another one of those that Hyojong had to train in his earlier days. But things changed once Changgu began to be recognised for his outstanding abilities, while Yanan still fumbled with the basics of being an angel. Though Changgu tried his best to stay close to him, it was obvious that Yanan resented him for leaving him behind, and eventually, Changgu just gave up. Yanan doesn’t know it, but Changgu still asks about him from time to time, just to check up on him, just to know that he’s okay, a sadness behind his eyes that he thinks Hyojong can’t see.

“It’s okay, Yananie,” Hyojong tells him, reaching over to pat his shoulder in comfort. “It’s my job, anyway. I’ll be fine.”

“Will you really?” Yanan counters, worry tainting his words. “Your last assignment was a little…”

Hyojong scratches the back of his neck. “Ah, come on, that was nothing…”

“You almost killed your target.”

“But I _didn’t-_ ”

“But you could’ve!” Yanan catches himself before he gets out of line, toning down his voice, letting out a long exhale. “You could’ve. You pushed it too far, Hyojong. You know you did. And what if this time…”

So, this is the real reason Yanan doesn’t want him to go. And to think it was because he’d actually miss him or something. As if.

He really doesn’t like the way Yanan’s looking at him right now, like he’s some kind of ticking time bomb, like if he goes back down there again, he’ll finally snap. But see, it’s not _his_ fault he almost lost it. He’s been doing this job for way too long, and that last target was really testing him. He didn’t think a single person could be that oblivious, and Yanan has no idea how it feels to have to deal with that kind of frustration. He hardly thinks having to choose between someone praying for a safe operation and someone begging for a flashy new car could be _that_ tough.

Hyojong hadn’t meant for things to get that bad, he really didn’t. He just wanted to come home.

But right now, he thinks it’s time for him to go.

He pulls Yanan in for a hug despite the heat that’s bubbling under his skin, because he doesn’t like leaving things on a bad note, the risk of not returning ever present in the back of his mind. He’s been threatened to be disowned by the Council far too many times now, and as much as he doesn’t like to admit it, a part of him is afraid that one of these days, they’ll actually do it. And the last thing he wants is to be abandoned on Earth.

“I’ll be fine,” Hyojong says again, certain of it, resolute, and he knows it’s not just Yanan that he’s trying to convince.

—

Changgu is the one who sends him off, like he always does, and though Hyojong never says it, they both know that he’s glad the last face he sees before he leaves is a familiar one. He wouldn’t say he’s got a lot of enemies per se, because there’s no such thing as hatred up here, no envy, no anger, but he knows of a handful of Cupids who think it’s unfair how he’s constantly going against their principles while still managing to be crowned as their best asset. Sometimes, he thinks it’s unfair too.

So, really, the only two who he can count on are Changgu and Yanan, and as bothersome as they can be sometimes, he’s lucky to have them.

“Best of luck, my little Cupid!” Changgu cheers brightly as he hugs him goodbye, and Hyojong almost bites him when he reaches over to ruffle his hair.

“I wish you’d stop calling me that,” Hyojong grinds out through gritted teeth, swatting his hand away from his already unkempt hair.

Changgu bats his eyes sweetly, cooing, “Grow a bit taller and I’ll consider it.”

“You’re such a pain in the-” Hyojong’s tongue freezes up, unable to say that last word, the enchanted ways of their realm not allowing him to speak such crude language.

The younger laughs when Hyojong’s face turns sour, the sound of it twinkling like music, amusement sparkling in his eyes, and if he didn’t know Changgu the way he did, he’d probably be just as smitten with him as every other angel up here. It didn’t matter anyway, because it’s not like they could ever act on it, the idea of romance being something only mortals could indulge in, a luxury they couldn’t quite afford. It was the one thing humans had that they didn’t.

But Hyojong didn’t mind it much. He didn’t mind it at all. He’d seen too many things go wrong with love to ever wish it upon himself.

“Be good,” Changgu tells him, his tone light, airy, but there’s a subtle warning behind it, a hint of authority flashing under his boyish features that Hyojong can’t help but obey.

See, he might always poke fun at how Changgu’s a part of the Council, joking about how he was the youngest angel among those other ancient ones, but he knows that Changgu deserved to be there. And he’ll never tell him, but Hyojong is proud of him for it.

Hyojong taps two fingers to his forehead in mock salute, waving a farewell, and he shoots back a cheeky, “Aren’t I always?”

“Hyojong, I’m serious-”

He doesn’t give Changgu a chance to finish, sending him one last wicked grin before he flies off, his wings wrapping around his body as he descends to Earth, to wherever it is that his next target calls home, the journey down feeling almost like nothing after the countless times he’s travelled over.

He lands a little too roughly though, crashing into a field of drying grass, glad that his wings somewhat cushioned his fall, still enveloping him like a shield. He groans as he stands, stretching out his body, feeling his joints pop refreshingly, shaking off the aftershocks of his crash-land.

He had hoped that his wings wouldn’t have been too banged up, but when his eyes skirt over them, he notices a few cuts and scratches, stinging now that he knows they’re there. Contrary to popular belief, angels weren’t invincible. They got hurt too, even more so when they’re far from home, the vast distance, the different atmosphere taking a toll on their bodies. Age played a part in it too. As much as he’d tried to convince himself otherwise, Hyojong knows he isn’t the youthful angel he once was, that enthusiasm and energy in him long gone, as were his healing abilities. He’d still heal, of course, but it would take longer than it should, another thing he could add to his ever-growing list of things he hated about Earth.

“Ah, fuck, I’m getting old,” he says without thinking, his tongue automatically speaking the language of the land he was in, and _oh._ There’s one thing he liked about being on Earth. He had the power of free speech, no magical restraints against the words that left his lips, allowing him to curse as much as he wanted.

 _To blend in with the humans, of course,_ he had once said to justify his excessive use of profanity, and Changgu had just rolled his eyes at him. _Of course, Hyojongie, whatever you say._

The thought of the younger reminds him of something, a simple wave of his hand conjuring up a bag full of all of the things he needed while he was here, courtesy of Changgu himself. Clothes that suited the age and day of where he was; his body already clad in an outfit that looked rather shabby, if he was being honest, loose shirt hanging off of his shoulders, dark jeans almost ripped to shreds, but he supposes that’s the trend nowadays. Money for him to spend; though he doubts he’ll ever need to get anything for himself, there might come a time when he’d need to buy his target lunch or something, and the Council isn’t too fond of stealing. And most importantly, all the information on his target; _Hwitaek,_ he remembers, where he lives, what classes he takes, even his exact coffee order at the café in town.

Hyojong has everything he needs. Now, all he has to do is find Hwitaek, take those piano lessons and-

“Nice wings.”

He’s yanked out of his thoughts when he hears a voice behind him, whirling around so quickly that his wings bring up a cloud of dirt and dust, making the speaker cough, affirming the fact that Hyojong hadn’t imagined the voice, that there was actually someone there.

And that someone is a man who looks about the age that Hyojong would be seen as, the age that Hwitaek probably is. He stands tall, definitely taller than himself, his tan skin paired with grey hair, an odd combination, really, and dark eyes that are staring right at Hyojong.

“You can see me?” Hyojong asks, a panicked hiss in his voice, wondering how that’s even possible. Angels couldn’t be seen by the human eye unless they showed themselves, and Hyojong was pretty sure that he wasn’t showing this guy anything.

The man nods casually, like he wasn’t freaked out in the slightest, and all he says is, “I’m surprised _you_ can see _me._ ”

Hyojong doesn’t understand what he means by that. Of course he can see him, he’s standing _right there,_ and Hyojong thinks it’s pretty obvious that he has functioning eyes, almost popping out of his skull right then.

“Why is that a surprise?” Hyojong counters, finding this person strange, his stance cautious, just in case he needed to defend himself.

He huffs out a breath, shoulders shrugging, that nonchalant vibe still rolling off of him coolly even when he says, “Well, for starters, I’m dead.”

“You’re _what?_ ”

“ _Dead,_ ” he repeats, tone bored, hand waving lazily, like he was tired of saying it. “Deceased, lifeless, blah blah blah.” He hums lowly, one finger coming up to tap his chin, the other hand perching itself on his hip. “And I don’t know, people always seemed to overlook me back in school. It’s not like I was short, or like, _ugly._ I’m not ugly, am I? Wait, no, don’t answer that, I know I’m no-”

“What are you?” Hyojong interrupts his babbling, his hand itching at his side, wanting to just smack the guy to get him to shut up.

He gives Hyojong a look, an eyebrow arched carefully. “You’re not very smart, are you?” is what he says, a disappointed frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “What else would I be?”

Hyojong doesn’t get a chance to answer, gasping when the man vanishes right in front of his eyes, his body fading away into nothing. Then-

“Boo!”

Hyojong isn’t one to be easily scared, but the stranger’s presence had sent his senses into full alert, so he can’t help the way he jumps in surprise, a screech ripping from his throat when he feels a chilling breath of air on the back of his neck.

That gets a gleeful laugh out of him, and Hyojong turns back to face him, willing his heart to calm itself, eyes wide.

“You’re a ghost,” Hyojong finally realises, and the man, ghost, _whatever,_ nods in answer, beaming now that Hyojong’s figured it out.

He hadn’t met any spirits in all his years of existing, the realms of life and death far from reach from the position he was saddled with, not that he’d ever want to have a hand in it, the job far too tricky for him to handle. Changgu might get there someday soon, if he keeps at it the way he always does, he’s bound to be promoted again.

“I take it you’re an angel,” he comments, his eyes not-so-subtly roaming over the wings attached to Hyojong’s back, gaze curious.

Hyojong snorts, his tone dry when he replies, “Gee, I wonder what gave it away.”

The ghost ignores his sarcasm, instead asking, “Are you here for me? Am I finally going to move on from here?”

There’s a hopefulness that lights up his face when he says it, and for a moment, Hyojong doesn’t have the heart to tell him no, but what else could he do? He didn’t have the power to help this man find the peace he was longing for, and if there’s anything he’d learned from being a Cupid, it was that false hope could be one of the worst things a person could feel.

“Sorry,” Hyojong tells him honestly, wincing when his face immediately drops. “That’s not really my department.”

“Oh.” His voice grows small, hushed, but he shakes it off, that bright grin creeping back onto his face. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have expected anything.”

Hyojong feels guilty, offering a crooked smile. “Look, man, if I could help you, I would. It’s just- I don’t really know how the whole life-after-death thing even works.”

“Why, are you not qualified for it or something?” he jokes, but the dark flash in Hyojong’s eyes seem to tell him that he’s hit a nerve, so he bites back a laugh, holding his palms up in surrender. “Oops! Touchy subject, I see.”

Hyojong’s lips twist into a scowl, any ounce of sympathy for him gone now, and he’s about to leave, already walking away, no time for this nonsense, but the guy matches his pace, his long legs meeting Hyojong’s stride easily.

“What are you doing here then?” he questions, spinning on his heel so that he’s facing Hyojong, walking backwards. “Do you have a job to do?”

“None of your business,” Hyojong shoots back, his tolerance for irritating creatures already wearing thin. He gets enough of them back home, he shouldn’t have to deal with this here too.

He’s relentless though, throwing out random guesses, and when he says, “Well, you couldn’t possibly be a Cupid,” Hyojong goes still, just for a split second, but his sharp eyes catch the brief moment, letting out a triumphant, “ _A-ha!_ There it is!”

Hyojong tries to pay no mind to him, changing his course, but wherever he turns, the ghost just poofs over to his side again, following him like a shadow.

As if hounding him wasn’t enough, he tries to sneak a peek inside Hyojong’s bag, voicing out, “Where’s your bow and arrow? How are you a Cupid if you don’t have those?”

“I don’t need them,” Hyojong snaps, snatching the bag away, keeping it tucked close to his side. “That’s not how it works.”

The satisfied smile that stretches his lips right then makes Hyojong wish he hadn’t said anything, because the guy chimes, “So, you _are_ a Cupid.”

Hyojong stops in his tracks, breathing in deeply, counting to five before he exhales. He looks at the ghost. “What do you want from me?”

He lifts a shoulder in answer, body swaying slightly with the way he rocks back and forth on his heels, cheeks puffing out. “I don’t know, I’m just bored,” he says truthfully, no other reason than that. “Can’t I just follow you? Help you or something?”

“This isn’t some kind of tag team game, okay, buddy?” Hyojong tells him, head shaking. “I have a job to do, and I don’t need anyone dragging me behind. So, go find someone else to bother.”

“No one else can see me!” he cries out, the misery clear in his dark eyes. “Don’t you get it? I mean, not to sound completely pathetic, but this is literally the first real conversation I’ve had with anyone in years. Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

He doesn’t say it out loud, but Hyojong thinks he does know what it’s like. Sure, he had Changgu and Yanan up there, but when he was down on Earth, he was always alone. And yeah, he had his targets, but they were his job, nothing more than that. At the end of the day, Hyojong was alone, and that guilt finds its way into his chest again, aching, burning. And he knows he’ll probably regret this, _really_ regret this, but another look at the guy’s pitiful face makes him cave in. “ _Fine._ If you want to help so bad, then show me where the community centre is.”

“Excuse me?” He turns his nose up at that, arms crossing over his chest. “Do I look like a tour guide to you?”

Hyojong nearly smacks him, settling for a sharp look sent his way instead, his tongue even sharper when he says, “Well, if you’re going to stick around, you might as well be useful.”

He can’t argue with that, his open mouth snapping shut once he realises it’ll be better for him to keep his remarks to himself if he wants to tag along, and he jerks his head to the left, taking the lead, Hyojong following suit.

“I’m Hongseok, by the way,” he says, shooting a glance over his shoulder to make sure that Hyojong’s keeping up.

He nods in acknowledgment, answering a simple, “Hyojong.”

Hongseok seems to like the name, a curious look on his face when he asks, “What does it mean?”

“Fuck knows,” is all Hyojong says in return, because really, he has no idea. His name was given to him, as was everything he had, and that was that. It’s not like he ever had a say in any of it.

The answer doesn’t sit well with Hongseok, the guy taking things into his own hands, chirping out a matter-of-factly, “Well, here, _‘Hyo’_ means dawn, which is fitting, I suppose, since that’s exactly when you landed back at the park.” With a tilt of his head, he adds, “And I didn’t know angels could curse.”

“I didn’t know ghosts were such know-it-alls,” Hyojong sneers back, but he silently stores away the knowledge in the back of his mind, just because. _Dawn._ He likes that.

Hongseok brushes off the comment, unbothered by it, instead moving on to his next question. “You still haven’t answered me, you know. What are you doing here?”

Hyojong doesn’t really want to answer him, doesn’t want to bother getting anyone else involved, doesn’t know if that’s even allowed, but he has a feeling that Hongseok will bug him about it endlessly until he tells him, so he says, “I’m looking for a guy called Hwitaek. You know him?”

“I’ve been dead for years,” is Hongseok’s reply, a small sigh in the back of his throat. “Anyone I know is long gone.”

“Ah…” Hyojong awkwardly looks away. “Sorry for asking.”

Hongseok doesn’t seem fazed by it, just lifting his shoulders like he’s accepted the fact, like he knows there’s nothing he can do to change it.

Hyojong wonders what that feels like, to know that you’re stranded, lost, unable to do anything about it. He wonders how it feels to be powerless. He wonders if that’s how he’ll feel if he ever ends up being stuck down here for good.

He doesn’t want to think about it now, or ever, and he’s grateful when he hears Hongseok’s voice again, giving him something else to focus on.

“So, what’s the deal with this Hwitaek guy? Why are you looking for him?”

“Cupid, remember?” Hyojong gestures at himself, and he can’t help the obvious mockery in his voice when he says, “I’m supposed to help him find love.”

Hongseok’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “With _you?_ ”

“No, you idiot, with the guy he likes,” Hyojong answers, sounding exasperated, almost offended at the idea of him getting involved with love for himself. “I don’t do love. I think it’s stupid.”

Amusement traces the lines of Hongseok’s face. “You’re a Cupid, but you think love is stupid?”

All Hyojong offers him is a shrug, and Hongseok scoffs.

“Well, _I’ve_ never been in love,” is what he says then, his tone bleak, hopeless even. “I never got the chance to.”

Hyojong just waves him off. “Don’t worry about it, it’s really not as great as it’s made out to be,” he tells him dryly. Then, with a quirk of his eyebrows, he adds, “If you stick around till the end of this, you’ll see for yourself.”

That pulls a smile out of the guy, his sadness replaced with excitement when he asks, “You’re really gonna let me come with you?”

“Well, yeah,” Hyojong tells him, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes for what feels like the millionth time, finding his eagerness a little lame. Still, he can’t deny that tiny part of him that might just appreciate having someone tag along for the ride this time, someone just as lonely as him. “Plus-” He looks up at the building looming ahead of them, a clear sign that tells him this is the community centre he was looking for, and he offers a smile of his own. “You brought me here, didn’t you?”

Hongseok is awfully giddy as he follows Hyojong into a small alley, practically bouncing on his heels like a child. “So, what’s the game plan here? Are you just gonna fly in there and find this Hwitaek guy and be like-” He clears his throat, his voice hitching up a notch to impersonate Hyojong. “ _‘Hey man, I’m your Cupid, where’s your crush?’_ or what? Like, do you even know what he looks like? Wait, can he even _see_ you-”

Hyojong doesn’t bother answering him, letting him babble on to himself as he focuses on the task at hand, his eyes falling shut as his wings settle against his back, feeling them burn into his skin until there’s nothing left, and-

“Whoa.” Hongseok’s jaw pops open, eyes blinking at him, hand coming up to slap his own cheek, like he needed to snap himself out of a daze. “Yo- Your wings- Where did they go?”

Hyojong turns his back to him, lifting his shirt as best as he can manage to reveal the intricate design of black ink on his skin, his wings tattooed on his back, still a part of him, but hidden away from prying eyes.

“This is my human form,” Hyojong explains, letting his shirt fall back down, flexing his arms to get used to his more corporeal body. “Notice anything different?”

“Apart from the lack of gigantic, angel wings?” Hongseok quips, a snort in the back of his throat. He takes the time to look him over though, head tilting in thought, humming, “Well, I guess you sort of look more… _real._ ”

Perfect. That’s what Hyojong was going for. Real, concrete, _human._ And with the fact that Hongseok hadn’t mentioned anything other than his wings, he’s assuming that all his necessary parts are intact. See, there’d been instances when he didn’t properly project himself, when he’d just half-assed his transformation, walking around with only half a visible body or a missing arm, stupidly wondering why people were screaming when he passed them. Those were the times when Changgu had to come down and erase countless memories of the ‘invisible man’, giving Hyojong a good scolding before he left him on his own again. He doesn’t think Changgu would appreciate it if that happened again.

“Okay, good.” He claps his hands together, straightening out his shoulders, slinging on that bag of his. “To answer your questions; I don’t have a game plan, I’m not flying in there obviously, I’m definitely not telling him that I’m his Cupid, I’ll know him when I see him, and yeah, now, he can see me.”

“And you’re going to meet him looking like that?” Hongseok counters, looking unimpressed. “At least fix your hair a bit-”

Hyojong flinches away when Hongseok tries to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, holding out his arms to put space between them. “No, no, no, no, no. Nope. Don’t do that. You can’t touch me.”

“What? Why?” Hongseok makes another move towards him, and Hyojong lets out a strangled noise, scrambling away from him.

“You just-” Hyojong groans, hands fisting in frustration, itching to just swing them at his face. “You can’t, okay? If a human touches me while I’m in this form, my wings will come out. My _real_ wings.”

It’s stupid, Hyojong knows, especially when handling humans often called for physical contact, but it’s a safety measure of sorts, something to make sure that the angels kept their boundaries with the humans, to avoid any harm to both parties. The only ones who were exempted from it were the Guardians, their duty requiring them to deal with their targets more directly, but for the rest of them, it is what it is. And what it is is a nuisance, really, but even Hyojong has to admit that it does the job, the little rule stopping him from choking the life out of his targets one too many times, and sometimes, he thinks that it might’ve been made just for him.

Right now though, it isn’t very helpful, because Hongseok doesn’t seem to get the hint, his steps towards Hyojong ceaseless, still trying to fix that bit of hair that can never seem to stay in place.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Hongseok sighs, advancing on Hyojong until he has nowhere left to go, his back pressing flat against the brick wall at the dead end of the alleyway, the ghost towering over him. “I’m _dead._ If I can see you, then…” His fingers meet Hyojong’s skin, and even he seems surprised that he’s actually solid, that his hand didn’t just go through Hyojong’s body like in the movies. And he moves to smoothen out Hyojong’s hair, hand trailing down the side of his cheek, then he smacks him – _hard._ “I can touch you too. Idiot.”

The entire time, Hyojong had his eyes squeezed shut, just waiting for his wings to emerge from the contact, just like they’re supposed to, just like they had the last time he was touched by a human, but, as Hongseok predicted, nothing happens. No bursting white light, no sudden explosion of feathers, just… _nothing._

“Oh.” His shoulders slump forward, a little disappointed at being proven wrong, while Hongseok is quite obviously pleased that he was right, a smug grin on his face, and because he can now, Hyojong wipes it right off, returning his smack, even harder than Hongseok had hit him. Just because.

“Okay, I deserved that,” is all Hongseok says, rubbing at his reddened cheek, and despite himself, Hyojong lets out a small breath of laughter, shoving his head playfully before he slings an arm around his neck, dragging him by his side.

“Come on, we have a job to do.”

“We?”

Hyojong glances over at Hongseok, at the light in his eyes, at the way he looks so alive for someone who’s dead, and he figures if he’s going to have a partner down here, it might as well be him.

So he nods his head. “We.”

—

Hyojong had lied when he said that he’d know Hwitaek when he saw him, because they’ve been standing in the corner of the lobby for what seems like a lifetime, eyes never leaving the piano in the middle of the vast room, a few people passing the area, but he can’t seem to recognise anyone at all. He has a vague image of Hwitaek’s face in his mind from when Changgu had forced him to go through his file at least once before he came down, the guy all soft edges and warm tones, but none of these people seem to be him. At least, he doesn’t think so.

“I thought you said-”

“I know what I said,” Hyojong clicks his tongue, and he makes sure to keep his voice low, moving his mouth discreetly, because if anyone were to see him, it’d just look like he was talking to himself, Hongseok completely hidden to their human eyes.

It’s obvious that he’s getting tired of waiting, and Hyojong fights the urge to jab him in the side to make him stop his fidgeting and whining, reminding him that it’s still early in the morning, that Hwitaek will come along soon, that he’s free to leave if he’s really that bored. That’s enough to shut him up.

Hyojong himself dozes off at some point, not that he was tired, but he was losing interest in staring at an empty piano seat, his eyelids drooping, head leaning back against the wall, wondering how much longer they’ll have to wait for the guy to show up.

“Is that him?” Hongseok jostles him awake, and his eyes immediately snap open, standing upright again to see who he’s talking about, and-

“Yeah.” Hyojong sounds breathless, gaze landing on the man standing over the piano, graceful hands running along the keys, a small smile settling on his face at the sound of the instrument, the guy all soft edges and warm tones, and Hyojong thinks he feels something squeeze in his chest. “That’s him.”

Maybe this won’t be so easy after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaahhhhh i hope that was okay!! the characters introduced in this chapter (including hwitaek even though he was sort of just mentioned) will be the main characters and the rest will show up along the way. i hope i managed to explain the whole cupid thing well enough but if there's any confusion, feel free to leave me a question and i'll do my best to clear it up! i'd love to hear what you all think of it and whether you'd like to see more so please do leave a comment to let me know hehe
> 
> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ao3kino) or [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/ao3kino) ♡


	2. “are you interested?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the next chapter!! i wasn't planning to update just yet but a few things came up and i'll be busy with tests and experiments and shit this week so i wanted to get a chapter up before all that so i kinda wrote most of this in one sitting today which is why it's a little shorter than the previous chapter and it's probably a mess and if there are any mistakes i apologise in advance bc it's just past 5am and i'm really not up for proofreading right now so... anyway i hope you all like it! oh and the chapter titles aren't really supposed to mean anything they're just random lines that i pluck from the chapter hhhhhh

“Hey! Where are you going?” Hongseok calls out, chasing after Hyojong into the street after the angel had taken one look at his supposed target and bolted out of the place, grabbing onto his shoulder to yank him to a stop.

“That was him, right? Hwitaek?” he asks, panting slightly –  _how is he out of breath if he doesn’t even breathe?_ – and he looks at Hyojong with confusion written across his face. “He was right there! Why’d you leave?”

Hyojong can’t seem to find an answer for him, his mouth hanging open, no words on his tongue. See, there’s this odd fluttering in his gut, a pounding in his chest, his head spinning, heavy, and he doesn’t like the feeling of it. He doesn’t like it because he knows exactly what it is. His job as a Cupid has put him through countless of stories and depictions of love, how it makes your heart race, your stomach flip, your head dizzy. How it’s everything that he’s feeling right now, and he has no idea why he’s feeling it.

Or maybe he does.

He recalls hearing Changgu say that his target was pretty cute, but neither that nor the blurry image of him that Hyojong had kept in mind could ever do justice to the person he had just seen in front of him. When he thinks about it, the guy isn’t exactly a stunner, nothing about him really standing out. His hair is a dark brown that falls flat on his forehead, matching the equally as plain colour of his eyes. His head seems a little too big for his body, and he’s got the kind of nose that just looks like it’s begging to be punched. He’s got nice skin, though, smooth and warm, like honey. Still, compared to the beauty that Hyojong saw on a daily basis back home, this Hwitaek is average, at most. But there’s something about him that Hyojong can’t quite put a finger on, something that made him beautiful in a way that he shouldn’t be.

He turns back to sneak a glance into the lobby again, peering in from behind the set of open doors, Hongseok on his tail, still going off about why he had just run away like that, but Hyojong tunes him out, ears picking up on the melody that Hwitaek is playing instead. He watches as a crowd forms around him, an impressive amount of people on a Sunday morning, and it makes him wonder whether they came just to see Hwitaek play. He wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case, because it’s obvious that he’s a very talented player, never missing a beat, keeping a perfect tempo, sounding almost as good as Hyojong himself.

And when his song comes to an end, when the audience applauds him, when a grin stretches across Hwitaek’s face, lighting it up so bright that it seems like it could rival the sun itself, that’s when Hyojong knows what it is. That’s what made him beautiful. So, so beau-

 _No._ No, no, no. He’s starting to sound like one of his targets, like one of those lovesick mortals who are weak to their desires, their lust. But he isn’t a human, and this isn’t love. It can’t be. It’s merely an attraction – _he’s allowed to be attracted to people, right? –_  and he’d simply been taken aback by Hwitaek’s unexpected good looks after years of encountering dull-looking humans, a rather pleasant surprise, he would say. It’s an admiration, at most, just him recognising and appreciating beauty for what it is. That’s all it is.

“ _Hellooooo?_ Earth to Hyojong!” Hongseok speaks the words directly into his ears, pulling him back to reality. “Are you even listening to me?”

Hyojong forces his gaze away from his target, switching his attention to the ghost, his voice sounding distant when he says, “Sorry, what?”

“Are you kid-” Hongseok’s nostrils flare in frustration, a low grumble in the back of his throat. “What happened back there, huh? Why’d you just leave?”

Hyojong hesitates, unsure what to say, because after his whole anti-love speech earlier, Hongseok would laugh in his face if he said that he ran away because he’d panicked over how gorgeous Hwitaek was. Even he would laugh at himself, honestly.

“I needed to go over my game plan,” is what he manages to spit out, and it’s amazing how easily lying comes to him for someone who’s supposed to be nothing but truthful.

“You said you didn’t have a game plan!”

“I lied, obviously.”

Hongseok’s hands come up like he wants to strangle Hyojong, but he manages to hold himself back, settling for a glare instead, hands balling up into fists.

“Okay, so, what’s the game plan then?” Hongseok asks, and again, Hyojong finds himself lost for words.

He’d already gone over this with Changgu, he knows that, but he thinks seeing Hwitaek in person made his brain short-circuit or something, because he can’t seem to remember anything at all now, his mind going completely blank. He doesn’t even realise that Hongseok had dug into his bag until he’s opening up Hwitaek’s folder between them, and _right._ Everything he needs is in there.

Hyojong flashes a sheepish smile when Hongseok shoots him a look that seems to say, _‘What would you do without me?’_ and he’s quick to take hold of the folder before anyone notices the thing floating in midair.

“Piano lessons, that’s it,” Hyojong remembers now, eyes flitting over the pages quickly, committing as much as he can to memory, nodding once he’s sure of his plan. “Okay, I got this.”

“Are you sure?” Hongseok asks, looking unconvinced as Hyojong stuffs the folder back into his bag, heading straight for the piano like he has no time to waste, a newfound confidence surging out of him.

Hyojong doesn’t bother answering him, walking right up to where Hwitaek’s flipping through his sheet music, his knuckles tapping the top of the piano to get his attention.

“You’re Hwitaek, right?” Hyojong is surprised, relieved, at how steady he sounds, glad that all his years of chatting up his targets hasn’t gone to complete waste.

Hwitaek turns to him, startled by his sudden approach, eyes wide, lips parted, and Hyojong feels his knees wobble, leaning onto the piano for support. _Pull yourself together, Hyojong._

“Yeah, that’s me,” Hwitaek says then, and as if being beautiful wasn’t enough, the guy had to _sound_ beautiful too. It’s unfair, really. “Who’s asking?”

“Hyojong,” he answers, and it seems like Hwitaek’s waiting for him to offer his hand to shake or something, like any normal, well mannered person would do, but no matter how much he wants to see whether his skin is as soft as it looks, Hyojong keeps his hand still, only giving him a smile. “You still taking students?”

Hwitaek looks confused, eyebrows pulling together, until Hyojong taps the piano again, and- “Oh! For piano? Yeah, um-” He nods his head quickly, a smile lifting the corners of his lips, seeming more sure of himself now that they’re talking about his area of expertise. “Yeah, of course. Are you interested?”

Hyojong’s eyes give him a quick once-over, his teeth flashing in a dashing grin when he says, “Very,” and Hwitaek’s face seems to flush, turning a light shade of pink as he goes back to his papers to look for something.

“Are you flirting with him?” Hongseok asks then, and Hyojong had completely forgotten that he was there, jumping slightly from the cold air that rushes past his ear, his knee banging against the leg of the piano.

Hwitaek looks over his shoulder when he hears the ruckus, asking, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! Just-” Hyojong swats Hongseok away, his lips pulling tightly. “There’s an annoying bug buzzing around my ear.” Hongseok doesn’t seem to appreciate that, pinching Hyojong’s arm, making him hiss, and he forces out an awkward chuckle, rubbing at the sore spot. “Ah, damn thing just bit me.”

“You’re supposed to help him get together with his crush, not flirt with him yourself,” Hongseok reminds him, voice hushed as if anyone other than Hyojong could even hear him, and really, at this point, he’s starting to sound a lot like Changgu, endlessly nagging him like he was a child who didn’t know what he was supposed to do. The two of them would get along well, he thinks.

Hongseok’s right though, and Hyojong doesn’t know what’s got him acting this way, all smooth lines and coy smiles. He’s never been like this with any of his previous targets, but then again, none of them looked like Hwitaek. Still, he shouldn’t, not when he has a job to do, not when he needs it done as soon as he can so he can go home. He can’t afford any drawbacks, especially not from himself.

So while Hwitaek still has his back turned to him, Hyojong manages a small nod to tell Hongseok that he understands, that he knows what he’s doing, and Hongseok still looks skeptical, but he takes a step back, letting Hyojong do what he has to.

“Here!” Hwitaek says finally, a flimsy piece of paper in his hand, passing it to Hyojong. “If you could just sign up over here…”

Hyojong takes the paper and pen from him, eyes scanning the form, filling up his name where he’s supposed to, the other boxes left blank. He notices that there isn’t any indication to how much the piano lessons cost, so he asks, “What are your prices?”

“Oh, no, I- I volunteer,” is Hwitaek’s answer, nothing but genuinity in his tone.

“You teach for free?”

Hwitaek nods, smiling again, and _jeez,_ he really is one of those help-old-people-cross-the-street kind of guys, isn’t he?

“Hyojong… Uh, just Hyojong?” Hwitaek wonders aloud when he looks over the form that Hyojong had filled out, eyebrow arching at the lack of information on the sheet. “No phone number, no address…” He breathes out a nervous laugh. “You’re not some kind of criminal on the run, are you?”

“Well…” Hyojong starts rather grimly, then he laughs when Hwitaek’s face goes white, his head shaking. “No, it’s just- I’m new to town. I just transferred to the university here.”

Hwitaek’s suspicions fall away immediately, the guy perking up again quickly at the mention of a fellow student. “Oh! I’ll be seeing you around campus then?”

“Maybe, I don’t know, I take night classes,” is Hyojong’s casual answer, all part of the cover story he and Changgu had come up with, somewhat relieved that he had managed to remember that bit at the very least.

“Ah…”

If he didn’t know better, he’d think that Hwitaek almost looked disappointed.

“Well, Hyojong,” Hwitaek says then, putting aside the practically useless form and gesturing towards the piano. “Should we get started?”

It’s a little difficult to pretend to _not_ know how to play piano, Hyojong having to literally force his fingers to stay frozen when they’re itching to just glide across the keys, but it helps that Hwitaek’s voice is soothing in a way, almost lulling Hyojong into a daze even though all he’s talking about is what key plays what note. He’s got his chin in his palm from where he’s still standing over the piano, absentmindedly nodding along to whatever Hwitaek is saying –  _he stopped paying attention a while ago, really –_  and every time the guy glances up from the piano to look at Hyojong to see if he’s following the lesson, he can’t help the dopey smile that tugs at his lips.

“God, you’re embarrassing,” he hears Hongseok say, and his gaze flickers over to where the ghost is standing on the opposite side of the piano, in the exact same position that Hyojong is in, except instead of a stupid grin, he’s got a disapproving look etched on his face.

Hyojong sticks his tongue out between his lips, just quick enough for Hongseok alone to see, and he’s about to turn back to Hwitaek, but Hongseok continues taunting him, saying, “Remind me again how ogling your target is supposed to help him find love? I don’t recall that being a part of the game plan.”

He’s about to open his mouth to answer, a rather crude remark already on the tip of his tongue, before he realises that he can’t exactly speak to an invisible ghost in front of Hwitaek, so he just ignores him, but Hongseok poofs over to his side, startling him yet again.

“You know, you’re kind of a shitty Cupid if all you’re gonna do is stare at the guy with heart eyes the whole day,” Hongseok comments, and if he could, Hyojong would slam the piano lid over his head to shut him up. He’s already dead anyway.

He can’t though, so he settles for just nudging his arm back a little to jab his elbow into Hongseok’s ribs, satisfaction spreading on his face when he hears the guy let out an, “Ow!” Still, Hongseok keeps at it, his voice beginning to sound more and more irritating when he sighs, “You know you’re not getting anywhere with this…”

“Shut up,” Hyojong hisses before he can help himself, and Hwitaek shoots up from where he was playing a chord, turning to Hyojong with alarm, his voice stammering out, “I-I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

“No!” Hyojong is quick to tell him, standing upright, purposely stepping on Hongseok’s foot as he does, silently cursing him for riling him up like that. He gives Hwitaek an apologetic look, saying, “No, I meant, like, _shut up!_ That sounds so good!”

He hears Hongseok snort behind him and he knows he probably sounds stupid, but Hwitaek seems to buy it, relief flooding his face. “Oh,” he breathes out, hand coming up to his chest and he scoots down the bench to make space for Hyojong. “Maybe you could try it then.”

Hyojong blinks at him, looking between the seat and his expectant face, his body going still where he stands. See, he’d wanted to keep as much space as he could between them, at least until he snaps out of this weird attraction phase, but he’d already denied the guy a handshake earlier and he doesn’t want to seem rude, so he nods, settling down beside Hwitaek, blocking out Hongseok’s, “Bad idea, Hyojong…” that floats past him like a warning.

“Yeah, okay, cool, I’ll try it,” Hyojong coughs out, clearing his throat, trying to recall what he had played earlier, coming up with nothing thanks to Hongseok’s distractions. He turns to Hwitaek, bashful. “Sorry, could you just play it again?”

Hwitaek is more than happy to, even taking the time to play it slowly, showing Hyojong each note, a flicker of recognition in his mind once he hears it. He knows this one, it’s one of the basic chords that beginners learn, the melody practically ingrained in him already, but he lets his fingers slip when it’s his turn to try it out, pretending to be upset when the notes come out wrong.

“Oh no…” he almost whines, lips pouting just enough to draw Hwitaek’s attention to them, and he swears he can _feel_ Hongseok shaking his head at him even though he can’t see him from where he’s sitting.

Hwitaek just lets out a laugh that’s as soft as the smile that he offers Hyojong, saying, “It’s okay, you did good for a first try. But here, let me-”

Hyojong all but flies out of his seat when Hwitaek tries to put his fingers on his in an attempt to show him the right chord, heart hammering in his chest at the near-contact, and when he feels Hongseok’s hand slide over his shoulder to steady him, he latches onto the hold like an anchor to calm himself, breathing out slowly.

“I’m sorry,” Hwitaek gulps, standing, guilt clear in his wide eyes. “I shouldn’t have-”

“No, please, it- it’s not your fault,” Hyojong tells him, trying to smile. “I’m just a little, uh, _you know,_ about…”

Hwitaek nods, surprisingly understanding, not giving Hyojong one of those odd looks that he gets sometimes when he has to tell his targets that they can’t touch him. “Of course. I get that. I- I’m really sorry, Hyojong. It won’t happen again. And I completely understand if you don’t want to continue the lesson-”

Hyojong feels bad, because he’s just so _nice,_ and he wants nothing more than to just tell him that it’s fine, that they can just go back to playing those silly chords, but Hongseok squeezes his shoulder, and _right._ He should go, before things get even worse than they already are. That was too close of a call, and it’s clear that he isn’t in the right mind to be doing his job right now. He’s too distracted, confused, and it’ll be better for both of them if he leaves for now.

“Maybe another time?” Hyojong suggests, hoping that Hwitaek isn’t too offended, reaching for his bag. “I just remembered that I need to sort out some stuff for my classes tomorrow.”

“Yeah, no, that’s fine.” Hwitaek just keeps on nodding, offering nothing but a kind smile and Hyojong knows that there’s truly no bitterness behind it, the guy genuinely sincere. “Anytime you want to, just give me a call- Or, _no,_ sorry, you don’t have a phone. Um, just-” He waves his hands vaguely. “You’ll see me around.”

Hyojong feels that ache in his chest once again, but before it can get the best of him, he forces it down, wills it away, and he says, “Yeah, I’ll see you around.”

—

“That went well!” Hongseok chirps once they’re back in that alley again, Hyojong shedding his human skin in favour of his wings, concealing himself from the world once more, and it seems like Hongseok’s just dying to say _‘I told you so’_ but one look at Hyojong’s sullen face is enough for him to keep it to himself, swallowing the words.

Really though, Hongseok should just say it because Hyojong deserves it. He doesn’t know what happened back there, why he did all the things he did. It felt like he was a completely different person and the thought of it now makes him shudder, refusing to see himself as one of those people who did a whole personality flip in front of the people that they liked. He’s seen it before in far too many of his previous targets, the kind who became an entirely new person as soon as they saw their crushes, in hopes of impressing them, when in reality, all they ever did was embarrass themselves. As their Cupid, Hyojong had advised them again and again to put a stop to it, telling them that it defeated the whole purpose of finding a true love if all they were going to do was fake it, yet here he is, doing exactly what he had told them not to do.

But _no._ This doesn’t apply to him. Because he’s not one of them and he’s not looking for love. He’s just not.

“So, Mr I-think-love-is-stupid, wanna tell me what the hell all of that was?” Hongseok asks as they’re walking to who knows where, Hyojong just wanting to get away from there, Hongseok just wanting to torture Hyojong, apparently.

“It was part of the plan,” Hyojong huffs defensively, trying to quicken his pace even though he knows that Hongseok can just pop up at his side whenever he pleases, which he does, trapping Hyojong under his arm to slow him down –  _how can a ghost be that heavy? –_  and he lets out a noise of protest, but Hongseok doesn’t budge.

Hongseok hums lowly, unconvinced, and he says, “How was this-” He pushes his lips out in a familiar pout, eyelashes batting, voice kicking up again to mimic Hyojong, “ _‘Oh no…’_ part of the plan?” Hyojong tries to smack him, but he hops away, a cackle escaping his throat and it’s obvious that he’s enjoying this. “Oh, man, that really was the most painful thing I’ve ever had to witness.”

“I hate you,” Hyojong decides right there and then, and instead of taking offence, Hongseok just makes obnoxious kissy faces at him, chiming, “But you love Hwitaek.”

“I do no-” Hyojong is cut off when he feels a sharp pain surge up his wings, eyes bulging as he turns to see a little boy stepping on the bottom tip of his wing and he yanks it away roughly, making the boy stumble forward, looking around to see what he had tripped on.

“Hyojong! He’s just a kid!” Hongseok tries to tell him, but Hyojong just tucks his wings in closer, shooting back a childish, “He stepped on my wing!”

“He can’t see you!”

Still, out of spite, Hyojong blows a gust of wind from between his lips, just enough to knock the boy’s scoop of ice cream right off of his cone, watching as it falls flat on the ground, the boy immediately bursting into tears and-

“You really are the worst angel to ever exist, huh?”

Hyojong just scowls at him. “You’re one to talk, Casper the Friendly fucking Ghost.”

Rolling his eyes, for once unable to find a witty comeback, Hongseok puts his arm around Hyojong again and they fall into step together, heading back to the old park where they’d met, a silent agreement that this would now be their spot, for all intents and purposes. No one ever came by here, according to Hongseok, but even if they did, it’s not like anyone could even see them.

“It’s nice, right?” Hongseok asks when they’re laying out on the grass, looking up at the dark sky, too cloudy to make out any stars.

Time moved a lot faster down here, especially when they weren’t doing anything in particular, night falling upon them before Hyojong even realised it. An entire day gone, wasted, his mission a disaster right from the get-go. Changgu would be disappointed in him, especially when this task was supposed to be an easy one. He wonders if Changgu can see him from here. He wonders if he knows how badly he’s messed it up already. He wonders if he even has the time to bother checking on Hyojong. He probably doesn’t. Still, he likes to think that someone up there is watching over him.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Hyojong answers, and he means it.

It’s quiet, and Hyojong wonders if Hongseok had fallen asleep. He wonders if ghosts even sleep. He doesn’t think they do, but what does he know? But apparently he’s still awake, because he hears Hongseok’s voice then, hesitant, unsure, like he’s scared to speak.

“It _was_ part of the plan, right?” is what he asks, shuffling around to look at Hyojong, bottom lip worried between his teeth. “You don’t really love him, do you?”

Hyojong wants to say no, he _should_ say no, but his tongue feels numb in his mouth, his head refusing to turn to face him, afraid of what Hongseok will see in his eyes if he does. See, Hyojong has been in this universe for a long, _long_ time, he’s encountered all kinds of beings, humans and beasts and angels, and not once has he ever felt what he felt back there. Not once has he ever felt human.

That’s what it is, he realises. What he felt then, what Hwitaek made him feel, it was human. And he doesn’t know what it means for him. He doesn’t think he wants to know.

“No,” Hyojong says then, just to make them both feel a little bit better. “No, I don’t love him.”

—

When Hwitaek had said that Hyojong would see him around, he definitely meant it. In the following days that Hyojong and Hongseok had trailed the guy to gather intel, the both of them unseen and unheard, Hyojong thinks that they might have covered the entire town at least three times over. Hell, he could probably map the place out with his eyes closed now.

Hwitaek’s mornings were filled with classes at the university, the gaps between them used to tutor his classmates, the guy surprisingly popular among them; his afternoons were spent either helping out at the library or the bookstore across town, both places letting him bring home as many books as he likes, the old ladies there treating him like he was their son; his nights alternated between bussing tables at a busy cafe and performing at the same joint, the only jobs that he’s paid for apparently.

Still, even with everything that goes on his life, there doesn’t seem to be any sign of his supposed crush, and really, Hyojong is starting to get a little antsy. The sooner Hwitaek’s crush comes along, the sooner Hyojong can fix them up, and the sooner he can get out of here. But that doesn’t seem to be happening and it’s probably about time that he actually does something, instead of just stalking Hwitaek with Hongseok like a couple of creeps.

“Remember, find his crush, get them together, job done,” Hongseok reminds him, his hands clamped onto his shoulders like he’s giving him a pep talk before a football game or something. “Got it?”

Hyojong nods, back tensing up as his wings dissolve into his skin, shaking it off once he feels himself fully shift. “Got it,” he says back, nodding once more to be sure, and he heads over to where Hwitaek should be walking out his class, right about…

“Hyojong?”

_Now._

“Hwitaek!” The feigned look of surprise of Hyojong’s face is impressive, really. “What a coincidence.”

Hwitaek grins, looking rather pleased to see him, his tone bordering on teasing when he says, “Well, I did tell you that you’d see me around, right?”

“That you did,” Hyojong says, mirroring his smile, that odd feeling beginning to come over him again and- “Hey, uh, are you free right now?” Hyojong already knows he is, but he asks anyway, pretending to be relieved when Hwitaek nods a yes. “You mind showing me around? I still haven’t really gotten used to the place.”

“Yeah, I’d love to!” Hwitaek answers, sounding far too enthusiastic, and Hyojong has to tell himself not to read too much into it. “Come on then.” Hwitaek almost reaches for his hand to lead him away, but he tugs his own hand back to his side quickly, and Hyojong is grateful that he remembered.

Hwitaek takes him all around campus, telling him the names of every building, the meanings behind them, and just like when he was explaining the piano, Hyojong finds himself getting lost in the ups and downs of Hwitaek’s voice, following the sound of it instead of his directions, and he’s slipping again, that feeling bubbling up in him once more, unable to find the strength to shove it back down his throat.

Love aside, Hyojong thinks he likes the feeling of it now, likes how it makes his heart beat a little faster, how it makes him feel like he’s floating, like he’s flying. He thinks that maybe now he understands why these mortals want it so much, to feel like this, to find someone who can make them feel like this. He thinks he understands why there are some people who want it so bad that they turn to drugs and drinks, chasing the feeling that they can’t seem to find anywhere else. And he understands why there are some people who don’t want to feel it at all. He thought he didn’t want to feel it at all. He doesn’t know what he thinks anymore.

Hyojong wonders if he’s the only one who feels it, wonders if Changgu has ever felt it, if Yanan has, and he supposes he could always ask Changgu if he wanted to, the young angel only a simple summoning away, but he doesn’t think Changgu would really be pleased if Hyojong called him all the way to Earth just to ask a question as silly as that.

 _We cannot love,_ Changgu would say, the fact set in stone, unchangeable. _Love is for humans, not for us._

And he would be right. Hyojong knows it, knows it all too well, so he doesn’t know why he’s even entertaining the thought, why he’s letting himself be blinded, fooled by these mundane emotions. Then he looks at Hwitaek, how his eyes light up when he speaks, how they disappear into crescents when he laughs, and Hyojong thinks that maybe it’s nice to just pretend.

He doesn’t even realise that they’ve gone through the entire campus until Hwitaek claps his hands together, the sound yanking Hyojong out of his thoughts, the guy just slightly out of breath when he says, “Well, there you have it! I hope my little tour was helpful. I know I was probably boring you with those building history lessons-”

“No, no, it was great,” Hyojong assures him, head shaking. “Really, I appreciate it.” And though wandering around with Hwitaek was nice, he’s just a touch frustrated with the fact that they hadn’t bumped into his crush at all, not even once.

But speak of the devil…

Hwitaek lets out a yelp, hiding himself behind Hyojong, and really, he isn’t sure which one of them is taller, but Hwitaek practically curls up on himself to make him as tiny as possible, and-

“Uh, you okay?” Hyojong asks, glancing over his shoulder, eyebrows raised.

Hwitaek sneaks a peek at the group of students filing out of a lecture hall, and his voice is hushed when he asks, “See that guy in the white shirt?”

“Hwitaek, half of them are wearing white shirts.”

“The cute, tiny one!” he adds, and _ah,_ Hyojong sees him. “That’s Jinho.” Hwitaek almost sighs his name like it’s a dream. “He’s in my vocal class. He’s my duet partner. _I_ get to sing with _him._ Him! Isn’t that great?”

“What’s so great about it?” Hyojong asks, his words coming out weaker than he meant them to, and he already knows the answer before Hwitaek even says it, so he doesn’t know why he feels his stomach twist with dread when he hears, “He’s the best singer in our school! And, well, I’m in love with him.”

And as nice as it is to just pretend, Hyojong thinks that maybe it’s time for him to stop, because this isn’t love. It can’t be. Not for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's a little slow and not very eventful yet...? but i promise things will pick up in good time!! i'd really appreciate some feedback so leave me a comment, tweet me, curious cat, anything that works for you, i love hearing from you guys!! <3


	3. “still got my back?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this update took a while!! i was working on shorter pieces and requests and stuff first heh but it's the longest chapter so far and things actually kinda start happening and more characters are introduced sooooo i hope you all like it!!

Hyojong’s plan of worming his way into Hwitaek’s life through his piano lessons isn’t working fast enough for him, because having to wait until the weekend just to see him for an hour-long session where he doesn’t even give Hyojong a chance to talk about anything other than Beethoven or whatever the hell his name is seems like an awful waste of time. It’s time that he can’t afford if he wants to get this mission over and done with as soon as he possibly can, time that he could be spending actually talking to Hwitaek to figure out how he’s going to get him and this Jinho guy together.

“Just admit that you can’t handle going another whole week without seeing him,” Hongseok says, tone dry, still unconvinced that Hyojong has no feelings whatsoever for Hwitaek.

“I’m just trying to do my job,” Hyojong replies, but at this point, they both know it means nothing.

Still, his ‘feelings’ or whatever it is that has him so infatuated with Hwitaek has to be put aside, to be buried deep, deep down inside him, because he’s not about to let himself mess up an assignment over some silly emotions that shouldn’t even exist in him in the first place.

 _Angels have no desires_ , Hyojong reminds himself over and over, chanting it in his head like a mantra. _They don’t sleep, they don’t eat. They feel no lust, no love._

 _I’m an angel,_ he has to remind himself over and over. _I don’t sleep, I don’t eat. I feel no lust, no love. No love, no love, no love._

“So, let me get this straight, your new game plan is to just accidentally on purpose bump into the guy anywhere and everywhere until he decides to become your friend?” Hongseok asks, and the way he says it makes it sound like such a stupid plan, but-

“Yeah, that’s exactly it.”

“This is hopeless.”

Hyojong heaves a sigh, clapping his hands onto Hongseok’s shoulders, roughing him up a little. “Come on, man, will you have some faith? It’ll work. Just trust me.”

“Trust _you?_ ” Hongseok gives him an empty stare in return, and _okay,_ maybe he deserves that after how much of a disaster this has turned out to be so far, but really, he’s trying his best. Plus-

“I don’t see _you_ coming up with any better ideas,” Hyojong says then, and well, Hongseok supposes he’s right.

It’s not like he has anywhere else to go, anything else to do, so when Hyojong schedules another ‘accidental’ meetup with Hwitaek on campus, Hongseok just tags along in hopes of providing, at the very least, some moral support for his friend. Because that’s what they are now – _friends._ Hyojong hadn’t wanted to accept the fact at first, gagging when Hongseok had asked him, “Hey, we’re friends, right?” because he doesn’t have friends, he just doesn’t. But in the same way that Changgu and Yanan were his brothers, there was no other word for what he and Hongseok were now.

So, yeah, they’re friends. And maybe that’s not such a bad thing after all.

“Hey, there he is.” Hongseok points over to where Hwitaek’s just stepping out of the building, waving goodbye to his classmates, that bright smile ever present on his face and for a moment there, Hyojong just wants to watch him. Watch how the sun hits his skin, how he carries himself across the courtyard, how-

“Hyojong, you forgot your legs.”

He breaks out of his trance, looking down to see what Hongseok’s talking about and _fuck._ He must’ve lost focus while materialising, too busy staring at Hwitaek and ending up with only half a solid body. He bares his teeth in an awkward grin as he channels his energy into bringing his entire form to life, kicking his legs out at Hongseok once they’re there, grateful that there was no one around to see a floating torso. Changgu would’ve killed him.

“Hopeless,” Hongseok chimes again, and Hyojong ignores him.

He pretends to fiddle with his phone – _he’s got one of those now_ – when he not-so-subtly bumps into Hwitaek, faking a gasp that has Hongseok shaking his head from a distance.

“You again!” Hwitaek looks surprised to see him. “You know, for someone who takes night classes, you seem to be on campus a lot during the day.” He arches an eyebrow. “I’m starting to think that maybe this isn’t coincidence after all.”

For a second, Hyojong goes still in his spot, wondering if Hwitaek is onto him, but then he says, “Maybe it’s fate.”

Hyojong wheezes out a laugh at his obvious joke, and he can almost feel Hongseok let out a breath of relief too, glad that their cover isn’t blown just yet. It’d be embarrassing if they were caught this early on.

“Maybe,” Hyojong says back, hoping that he doesn’t sound too flustered and just to be sure, to be safe, he adds, “And I live on campus, so I guess I’m always just… around.”

“Oh, I see…” Hwitaek nods in understanding, then he asks, “Well, since you’re here, wanna take a walk?”

Hyojong was hoping he’d say that, so he nods a yes and they walk, headed for nowhere in particular, a comfortable space between them. Hyojong doesn’t seem to know what to say, but Hwitaek fills the silence, asking questions about anything and everything. He asks Hyojong about their lesson the past weekend, whether he’d been practicing the piece they were learning, whether he’d still be up for more sessions. He asks Hyojong how his classes have been, whether he’s fitting in well, whether he still gets lost around campus. He asks Hyojong if he’s hungry, whether he’d want to have lunch with him and his friends, and-

“Lunch?” Hyojong cuts in, his steps coming to a halt. “With you? And your friends? Now?”

Hwitaek seems to find his confusion amusing, laughing a little, but he says, “Yeah, now. They’re waiting over at the cafeteria. You in?”

A winning smile stretches across Hyojong’s face, and his gaze flits over to where Hongseok is watching them, a wicked glint in his eyes as if to say, _See?_ and Hongseok just gives him a rather sarcastic thumbs up, looking like he’s just waiting for Hyojong to fuck up again. How supportive.

Hyojong turns back to Hwitaek. “Yeah, I’m in.”

He isn’t sure what to expect of Hwitaek’s friends, assuming that they’d probably be a bunch of nice people like he is, hoping that one of them is that Jinho guy. Though from the way Hwitaek had hid from him the last time Hyojong was here, it’s unlikely that they were close enough to be having lunch together. Still, meeting his friends, Jinho or no Jinho, is a step forward either way, because it means that Hwitaek is slowly letting Hyojong into his life, and once he charms his way into these people’s hearts, it’ll just give him an even better chance at fixing Hwitaek and Jinho up.

So Hyojong doesn’t know who he’s about to meet, but he’s definitely not expecting to see-

“ _Hyunggu._ ”

Hwitaek’s mouth freezes midway just as he’s about to introduce them, sounding puzzled when he asks, “You two know each other?”

Hyojong looks at Hyunggu, at his ever familiar face, still the same as the last time he saw him, except his hair is dark where it had been a light purple. The dark hair suits him better. He looks at Hyunggu, but there isn’t even a flicker of recognition on the boy’s face, not at all. Hyojong doesn’t know why he expected any.

“Do we…?” Hyunggu asks, brows furrowing, just as confused as Hwitaek is, the both of them looking at Hyojong expectantly, making his mouth go dry.

As if sensing his distress, Hongseok shows up behind him, his voice low when he calls his name, pulling him back to his senses and-

“I’m in one of your classes,” Hyojong manages to cough out, forcing a tight smile.

That raises even more suspicion, Hwitaek saying, “You said you only took night classes.”

“Well, I-” Hyojong hesitates again, eyes blinking, and he catches a glimpse of Hongseok hovering around Hyunggu, gently rifling through the loose papers that he’s holding. To the rest of them, it just looks like the wind is blowing through them, but Hyojong knows what Hongseok’s doing, and when he looks up at him to say, “Dance,” Hyojong sends him a silent thank you.

“I’m in your dance class,” Hyojong says, standing up straighter. To Hwitaek, he adds, “It’s the only day class that I opted for. They’re not offering any night classes. I guess I forgot to mention it.”

Hyunggu looks convinced now, and Hyojong isn’t surprised. He’d always been a naive one. “Oh, yeah, that is a pretty huge class. No wonder I’ve never seen you before.” With a small smile, he says, “You do seem familiar though,” and Hyojong has to will himself to keep his mouth shut.

Hwitaek still seems skeptical, watching Hyojong with a careful eye before he shakes it off, and he says, “Well, I’m hungry.” He heads in before Hyojong can say anything else, but Hyunggu looks more than happy to invite him in, saying, “Come on, my boyfriend’s already inside.”

Hyojong feels nervous at the mention of his boyfriend, wondering who he’ll see, and relief rushes through him when he’s met with another familiar face, the guy’s name already on the tip of his tongue but he manages to swallow it, feigning complete innocence when Hyunggu introduces him, saying, “This is Yuto.”

Yuto offers a polite nod. “It’s nice to meet you, um-” He turns to Hyunggu, but Hyunggu just turns to Hwitaek.

“Hyung?”

Hwitaek looks between them blankly. “What?” Then-

“Oh, sorry, right.” He moves over to Hyojong’s side, putting on a smile. “Uh, this is Hyojong. He just transferred here a couple of weeks ago.”

Hyojong gives them an awkward wave of his hand. “Hey.”

“Are you our hyung too or…” Yuto’s voice trails off, and for a moment, Hyojong wonders what he’s talking about, before he remembers the customs of this particular country, the honorifics they use for people older than them and-

“Yeah, I guess, I’m probably the same age as Hwitaek,” Hyojong says. Then, pretending to take a guess when he already knows it for a fact, he asks, “Twenty-three?”

Hwitaek gasps at that, amazed at how Hyojong had not only guessed his correct age, but was also supposedly the same age as him, another coincidence in their ever-growing web of coincidences. “Yeah! That’s so cool!”

“So cool…” Hongseok mimics from behind him, and Hyojong has to hold back a snort.

It’s a lot harder trying to get to know Hwitaek’s friends when Hyojong already knows everything about them, more focused on trying not to input little comments about things that he should have no knowledge of, rather than trying to actually listen to what they’re saying. He has to force himself to stay in the moment, to stop drifting back to the past, to remember what he’s really here for. He’s here for Hwitaek, to help him. He can’t get distracted.

But he can’t help the way he slips into a daze as he listens to Hyunggu’s stories, how he’d met Hwitaek in their music production class, how they’d become quick friends, how happy he was when Hwitaek immediately got along with Yuto as well, how he’d been worried that he and Yuto wouldn’t be able to make any friends in a new place. Hyojong remembers that, how the two of them had planned to move away from their little town, to go to university together, to move on to better things. He’s glad that it worked out for them. He’s glad that after everything he did for them, they’re happy now.

“And what about you, Hyojong-hyung?” Hyunggu asks suddenly, and he’s thrust back into the present, eyes blinking wide.

“Sorry, what?”

“What made you transfer here?” he asks, and the sudden question throws Hyojong off guard, his mind going blank again, everything he rehearsed with Changgu flying straight out the window.

“Uh… It- It’s a good school,” is all he can come up with, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Hongseok smack a palm to his forehead, shaking his head in disappointment.

 _Right._ Okay. Hyojong thinks it’s time for him to go. He stands a little too abruptly, his chair making an awful screeching sound against the floor as he pushes it back, and it makes Hwitaek jump, getting up as well.

“You’re leaving already?” he asks through a mouthful of food, and Hyojong hates that he finds the little act just a tiny bit adorable.

He forces a nod though, gathering his things. “Yeah, I gotta go, you know, _sleep._ ”

“But it’s two in the afternoon!”

“Night classes, remember?” Hyojong quips, and Hwitaek swallows his food, letting out an, “Ah, right…”

Hyojong offers an apologetic look, and before he forgets, he pulls out the gadget in his pocket, waving it in his face. “I have a phone now, though, if you wanna-”

“Yeah!” Hwitaek takes it from him, being careful not to let their hands touch, and he’s quick to put in his number, his fingers moving so fast across the screen that Hyojong gets dizzy. Once his own phone begins to buzz on the table, he breaks out into a grin, passing Hyojong his phone back. “There you go.”

Hyojong looks down to see that Hwitaek had put in his name with a smiley face next to it, and he bites down a smile of his own as he pockets the thing again. “Thanks. For lunch and all.” He waves at the other two. “Nice meeting you guys.”

They say the same to him, wishing him goodbye, and as he’s walking away, Hyunggu calls out, “See you in class on Thursday!”

All Hyojong can do is give him a thumbs up in return, and as soon as he’s back out in the open, morphing back to his angel form, he lets out a heavy breath, his head feeling even heavier. He feels like the world is spinning around him, spinning, spinning, spin-

“So, what was it this time?” Hongseok asks, and Hyojong should’ve expected that. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with this Hyunggu guy too?”

“No,” Hyojong answers, turning back to face him, and everything goes still. “But he was my last target.”

—

Seeing Hyunggu again puts Hyojong on edge, even more so once he’s gotten away from the boy, giving him a chance to actually process what had happened. And it forces him into this weird silent mode that not even Hongseok’s lame jokes can break, making him curl up into a ball, hiding behind the big tree in the far end of the park.

Hongseok watches over him for afar, concerned, but too afraid to get too close in case Hyojong decides to snap at him. He hears him muttering on and on to himself about how this could have happened, how someone named Changgu could have let this happen, how he would break said Changgu person’s arm the next time he sees him. At some point, he even looks up at the sky and says, “Maybe you were right, Yanan,” and Hongseok is convinced that he’s finally lost it. It takes three entire days for him to pull himself out of his slump, but it takes a turn for the worse, the angel now pacing back and forth across the park, his movements jittery, unnerving and it’s beginning to drive Hongseok insane.

“Okay, Hyunggu was your last target, so fucking what?” he cries, hands grabbing onto Hyojong’s shoulders rougher than he means to, driving him to a stop, trying to pull him together.

“Bad history,” is all Hyojong offers, refusing to even meet Hongseok’s eyes, foot tapping against the ground, breathing tense.

And Hongseok gets that, he does. Knowing Hyojong, he must’ve put the poor kid through hell and back to finish the job. He can’t even begin to imagine how he must’ve done it without having Hongseok around to save his ass every five minutes, but-

“It couldn’t have been _that_ bad-”

“I almost killed him.”

Hongseok’s jaw pops open, his grip on Hyojong going slack. “Do I… Do I even wanna know?”

Hyojong shrugs helplessly, and as much as he wants to give him a long lecture about how angels shouldn’t be going around trying to murder the people they should be helping, Hongseok just sucks in a long breath and lets it go. He perks up again, hands moving up to Hyojong’s face instead, and he smacks them onto his cheeks so hard that they leave burning red marks on his skin.

“Okay, listen, man, you gotta snap out of this,” Hongseok says, sounding like some kind of coach who’s hyping up his players before a match. “Everything will be fine. It’s not like he even remembers you, right?”

“Well, no, but now he thinks I’m in his class,” is Hyojong’s answer, sounding distressed. “And thanks to _you,_ I’m gonna have to compel my way into a fucking dance class, of all things.”

Hongseok fumbles for his words, scoffing in his face. “It was the first one I saw! And hey, you should be grateful I did what I did.”

“Thank you so much,” Hyojong sneers back at him, thumping the heels of his palms on Hongseok’s head before he shoves him off, and _okay,_ someone’s obviously back to normal.

Hyojong still feels off though, just the thought of having Hyunggu around making him uneasy, the guy a reminder of everything that could go wrong with this mission, Yanan’s voice ringing in the back of his mind like a warning.

_What if this time…_

No. _No._ Hwitaek isn’t Hyunggu, and Hyojong is better now. Except he’s not. He knows he’s not. If anything, he’s even worse off than he was before, those odd feelings he has for Hwitaek becoming an extra burden in him, weighing him down like anchors, and if he isn’t careful, he might just drown.

“Look, Hyojong-”

Hongseok is like the hand that pulls him out of the water, keeping him above the surface, just barely, but it’s enough to keep him breathing and as much as Hyojong pretends to hate his guts, they both know that he kind of needs Hongseok at this point, that he wouldn’t know what to do without him.

“You can do this, okay?” Hongseok tells him, no malice in his tone now, a kind smile on his face as he pulls Hyojong against his side. “You’re the best Cupid out there.”

Hyojong puffs out a small breath, but a smile of his own tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Just the other day you said I was the worst angel ever.”

Hongseok’s grin widens at that. “Ah, you’re the only angel I know, so you’ll just have to be both.”

That makes Hyojong’s eyes roll, but he laughs, and so does Hongseok. And it’s nice, Hyojong thinks. It’s nice to have a friend.

Then, softer, Hongseok says, “And hey, whatever happens, I’ve got your back.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Hyojong turns to him, and he sighs. “Well, I hope you know how to dance.”

—

Hongseok is a terrible dancer, it turns out. Even Hyojong, who has never danced once in his entire existence is doing better than him, or at least, he’s making it seem like he is. To be honest, he doesn’t even know what he’s doing, because he isn’t used to moving his body like this, so his movements come out jerky and stiff, but Hyunggu watches him with marvel in his eyes as if Hyojong is doing something revolutionary.

And when he asks, “Hyung! You’re a popping dancer?” Hyojong just says, “Hell yeah I am.”

“Do you even know what that means?” Hongseok asks from behind him, almost breathless from trying to keep up with the dance lesson.

“Do you know that no one can actually see you?” Hyojong shoots back, only for him to hear, and Hongseok swipes a leg under him, knocking him to the ground.

Hyojong lands on his ass with a groan, and Hyunggu is quick to come to his aid, just about to reach for his hand to pull him up, but Hyojong scrambles away from him before he can, backing up against the wall.

“Oh no!” Hyunggu yanks his hand back to his side, eyes wide. “I’m sorry! Hwitaek-hyung mentioned it the other day- _Ah!_ ” He presses his palms together in apology. “Sorry, hyung. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Hyojong breathes out, pushing himself up, waving him off. He should’ve seen that coming. Hyunggu had always been a clingy one, the kind that needed a little more reminding when it came to watching their boundaries. “It’s fine, really.”

Hyunggu apologises again, and Hyojong just tells him not to worry about it, his mind drifting off to Hyunggu’s earlier words. _Hwitaek-hyung mentioned it the other day._ Hyojong doesn’t know why, but he feels giddy at the thought of Hwitaek telling his friends about his problem with touching, as if to make sure that they didn’t make him uncomfortable. Then he sees his stupid smile in the mirror and Hongseok’s raised eyebrow, and his face turns sour, leg subtly stretching out to trip the ghost, snickering when he lands on his face.

Hyojong manages to pull through the class in one piece, even having fun at some point, though he’ll never admit it to anyone, especially not Hongseok. And when Hyunggu tosses him a bottle of water at the end of it, grinning at him like they’re old pals, he figures maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Are you coming tomorrow night?” Hyunggu asks, and Hyojong must’ve given him a look, because he clarifies himself, saying, “To the café where Hwitaek-hyung works.”

“Uh, I don’t know. Why?” Hyojong asks back, though he already knows the reason. If his calculations were correct, tomorrow night would be one of the nights where Hwitaek takes the stage instead of working tables, and he must be right because Hyunggu says, “He’s performing.”

With a little smirk, he adds, “With Jinho-hyung.”

Hyojong tries to ignore the mean tick in his chest at the mention of Hwitaek’s crush, his fist clenching around the bottle of water without him meaning to. He flashes a smile. “That’s the guy Hwitaek likes, right?”

“Yep, the one and only.”

“Is he really that great of a singer?” Hyojong asks, doing his best to keep the bitterness out of his tone, his phony smile beginning to make his cheeks ache.

Hyunggu just gives him a quirk of his eyebrows. “You’ll see for yourself.” Then, he shoulders his bag, heading out. “I’ll ask Hwitaek-hyung to the text you the details, okay?”

Hyojong just nods, waving goodbye, and as soon as he’s gone, a scowl replaces the smile on his face.

“I bet he’s not even that great,” Hyojong grumbles under his breath as they’re leaving, more to himself than anyone, shifting back into his natural form.

“I bet he’s better than you,” Hongseok chimes, and Hyojong thwacks the back of his head.

The strain from the dance class starts to settle in his bones, his muscles, making his body feel like it’s been filled with lead and he stands in front of Hongseok, looking him straight in the eye.

“Carry me,” he says, and Hongseok is about to protest, but Hyojong’s eyes narrow into sharp slits, threatening almost. “Do I need to remind you whose fault it is that we’re in this class-”

“Fine!” Hongseok picks him up bridal style, giving him a dirty look, but Hyojong just grins, pleased with himself, patting Hongseok’s chest in gratitude, and the ghost heaves a sigh.

“You know, this isn’t what I meant when I said I’ve got your back.”

—

Hyojong has never been a fan of technology, always seeing it as one of mankind’s worst creations, the cause of their corruption. Plus, human technology seemed so trivial compared to their angelic power, nowhere near as advanced as what they have, so Hyojong just never bothered himself with it. Except now he’s practically glued to his phone, checking the screen every five seconds to see if there’s anything there, groaning out loud when there isn’t.

Hwitaek hasn’t texted him about tonight, and Hyojong is starting to think that Hyunggu had forgotten to pass along the message. Either that, or Hwitaek just didn’t want to invite him. Which isn’t just upsetting, but it makes things difficult for him too. He’d thought that tonight would finally be the night where he could start to move things along, get to know Jinho in person, see what he can do to push both him and Hwitaek in the right direction. But he can’t do that if he’s not there.

“Still nothing?” Hongseok asks, just as tired of waiting as he is.

“Nope.”

“Maybe he hates you.”

“Maybe you should shut up.”

“May-”

Hyojong shoots up as soon as he hears the _‘ting’_ from the gadget, eyes lighting up as bright as the screen, letting out a small gasp when he sees Hwitaek’s name flashing on it, quickly scanning through the message that he’d sent.

“I’m performing tonight… Hyunggu already told you… You should come… Eight o’clock-” Hyojong gasps again, louder this time. “That’s in an hour.” He fumbles with the phone for a bit, slow fingers typing out a reply. “I’ll… be… there… Smiley face… Send!”

Hongseok gives him a pointed look, eyeing the dopey smile that’s stretched across Hyojong’s face, making him look like he’s some kind of lovesick teenager, and he says, “God, I can’t believe this is what you’ve become.”

Hyojong ignores him, changing into a fresh set of clothes with a wave of his hand, running his fingers through his hair just once. “How do I look?”

“Like you always do,” is Hongseok’s simple answer. Then, like the ever helpful partner he is, he reminds Hyojong, “Remember, you’re there to help him with Jinho, not with you.”

It makes Hyojong feel terrible when he says things like that, like he didn’t know how to control himself, but he knows that Hongseok is just being cautious, that it’s for Hyojong’s own good, so he nods his head. “I know.”

They turn up at the café just before eight, Hyojong materialising himself in the dim alley behind it, shaking out his limbs once they’re inside. It’s a nice place, nicer than he’d expected after just watching Hwitaek from the outside in those few days that they’d monitored him. It’s busy though, people moving in and out of the small space, talking over each other, and Hyojong wouldn’t have noticed anyone if not for Hyunggu barrelling towards him, practically screaming, “Hyojong-hyung! You made it!”

Yuto trails behind him with less enthusiasm, but just as much delight when he sees Hyojong, saying, “What’s up, hyung?”

Hyojong says his hellos, following them back towards their table right by the small stage in the centre of the café, a tinge of disappointment in him when he sees that Hwitaek isn’t there. He was hoping to see him before he performed, maybe even wish him luck. Just because.

But he doesn’t have to wait long, because he hears cheers coming from all around him, and he looks up to see Hwitaek heading onto the stage, that beam of his almost blinding in the low lights and just like that morning when they’d first met, Hyojong wonders if all these people came just to see him perform. He wonders how good Hwitaek really is.

He’d heard him sing before, bits and pieces from when they’d been trailing him, but they never stuck around to hear him properly, never really having a reason to. So he sits in anticipation, almost excited to hear his voice, to see if he’s as good at singing as he is at playing piano, and when he catches Hwitaek’s eye, he gives the guy an encouraging smile, one that Hwitaek returns with a small wave, mouthing, “Thanks for coming.”

Hyojong feels that wave of fondness in him again, but it’s washed away as quickly as it came when he sees someone else coming up onto the stage, sitting himself down next to Hwitaek. _Jinho._ Hyojong has to the admit, the guy is cute, not his type – _not that he has one_ – but still, cute. He seems nice too, like the kind of person you’d go to for advice, the kind of person who’d give you warm hugs on a rainy day, the kind of person that would be the perfect boyfriend for Hwitaek. Hyojong wants to shove him off the stage.

“Hello everyone,” Hwitaek speaks into the microphone, voice bouncing off the walls. “Tonight, I brought a special guest with me. He’ll be my partner for our duet project this semester, so I thought it’d be good practice to sing with him here. I hope you all enjoy the performance, and this is Jo Jinho.”

Hyojong claps along with everyone else, falling silent as the music begins to play, Hwitaek’s fingers graceful as they dance across his keyboard, those subtle movements alone enough to put Hyojong in a trance, his body slowly swaying with the gentle melody of the song, gaze trained on Hwitaek alone.

Jinho begins the song, and _fuck,_ he really is that great of a singer. His voice is incredible, probably one of the most amazing voices Hyojong has ever heard, but when he hears Hongseok’s low whistle from behind him, the ghost saying, “Damn, with a voice like that, even I would fall in love with him,” Hyojong just scoffs.

“He’s alright, I guess,” he murmurs back, and he pretends not to hear it when Hongseok laughs, singing out a ridiculous, “Jealous much?”

Now that Hyojong has heard Jinho sing, his high hopes for Hwitaek are lowered, because he doubts that anyone could rival a voice like Jinho’s, his skill and talent obvious in every tilt of his tone, but then Hwitaek sings, and _oh._

“Wow,” he hears Hongseok say, and-

“Yeah,” Hyojong says back, sounding breathless, his heart in his throat. “Wow.”

Hwitaek sings, and he sounds like magic, like stardust and moonlight and everything good in this godforsaken world put together. Hwitaek sings, and it seems like he could join the choir of angels up in Heaven right there and then. Hwitaek sings, and Hyojong thinks he might just be a little bit in love after all.

He doesn’t even realise that the song is over until Hwitaek is right in front of him, waving a hand in his face to get his attention.

“Hyojong?”

Hyojong jolts out of it, mentally smacking himself, sitting up straighter and he clasps his hands together in awe. “Hwitaek! Yeah, hey, wow, you were- _Wow._ Just… Wow.”

“Real smooth, buddy,” Hongseok comments, and Hyojong kicks him under the table.

Hwitaek ducks his head shyly at the compliment, voice small when he says, “Ah, no, please, not at all.” He turns to his left, growing even shier. “Jinho-hyung over here was the real star.”

Jinho laughs at that, his hand gentle as it lands on Hwitaek’s shoulder, and Hyojong tries to ignore the way that brief contact alone is enough to make Hwitaek turn as red as a tomato.

“No, no, our Hwitaek is the star, for sure,” Jinho insists, smiling kindly at him. Then to Hyojong, he says, “Did you know he wrote that song himself?”

Hyojong’s lips are stiff when he answers, “No, I didn’t, actually.” He turns his focus to Hwitaek, features softening. “That’s really cool, Hwitaek. It was a good song.”

“Thanks, Hyojongie,” Hwitaek mumbles back, glancing up at him with the sweetest smile on his face, and Hyojong just wants to take him away and keep him for himself.

But _no._ He’s here for a reason, he reminds himself. For Hwitaek. For Jinho. Not for him. He breathes in, breathes out. _Not for him._

“Jinho, right?” Hyojong says, standing to greet him, offering a polite bow. “I’m Hyojong.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Jinho says then, motioning for them to sit down. “Hwitaek says you’re a transfer student?”

Hyojong nods in answer. “Yeah, I just moved here a few weeks ago, so this is my first time with…” He waves a vague hand around them. “All of this.”

“And what’d you think of it?” Jinho asks, looking at him expectantly, as does Hwitaek.

“It’s great. Good place, good food. And the whole singing thing just now, that was great too.” Hyojong looks between them, seeing an in, and he quirks a smile, pointing at the two. “You guys have amazing chemistry, you know?”

“Do we now?” Jinho looks pleased, while Hwitaek blushes even harder, and Hyojong wants to say no, wants to say that he’s seen better chemistry between a pair of rocks, but he sees Hongseok watching him carefully, as if to make sure that he stays in line, that he does his job, so he forces himself to say, “Yeah, you do. I really felt it in that performance. You two make great partners.”

And because he’d rather just get this over with, like ripping a band-aid off, he adds, “Really, you’d make great boyfrie-”

“Hyojong!” Hwitaek calls out suddenly, cutting him off, and he sends him a wide-eyed look across the table. “Don’t you think it’s time for you to go?”

“What? I just got here-”

“But you have that thing, remember?” Hwitaek says, jerking his head suggestively.

Hyojong frowns at him. “What thing?”

“You know, that thing you told me about the other day. The- The thing you have to do.” Hwitaek lets out an awkward laugh when Hyojong continues to stare at him blankly, and he pushes himself out of his chair, moving towards Hyojong. “Oh, you’re so silly, how could you forget? Maybe I should just walk you over there, huh?”

“Walk me over where-”

“Let’s go!” Hwitaek doesn’t even give him a chance to properly say goodbye to the others, tugging on his sleeve to lead him out of the place, the guy surprisingly strong for someone so skinny and he doesn’t stop until they’re far, far away from there, letting out a loud huff once he comes to a halt.

Hyojong looks at him in confusion, forehead creasing. “What-”

“Why would you say that to Jinho?” Hwitaek asks, his face a mix of worry and distress, cheeks puffing out like a child.

“What, that you have good chemistry?” Hyojong counters, and Hwitaek groans, head shaking.

“No! That we would make good boyfriends!”

 _Because you would, and you should, and if you do, I get to leave this terrible planet and go back to Heaven,_ but it’s not like Hyojong can actually say that to him, so instead he says, “I thought you liked him.”

Hwitaek gapes at that, flustered at the mention of his crush. “W-Well, I _do,_ but he doesn’t know that, and I’d like to keep it that way, thank you very much.”

Hyojong almost rolls his eyes, because of course Hwitaek is one of those people. Just his fucking luck. He doesn’t understand why Cupids would be assigned to targets who insist on only loving from afar, who refuse to actually make a move. It defeats the purpose of finding love, doesn’t it? But then again, he supposes that’s why the Cupids are sent, to persuade their targets, to get them out of that safe zone, to push them forward, and man, this job is turning out to be a hell of a lot more work than he’d thought.

“I’m sorry I dragged you out of there like that,” Hwitaek says then, looking apologetic. “I just panicked.”

Hyojong waves him off lazily. “It’s alright. The place was getting a little stuffy anyway.”

“Still…” Hwitaek puts on a smile, offering, “Let me walk you back to your dorm, at least.”

He hesitates. “M-My dorm?”

“Yeah, you said you stay on campus, right?” Hwitaek says, and _right,_ he did say that. “Which building are you in?”

Hyojong opens his mouth, shuts it, opens it again, shuts it again. “See, the thing is…” He can’t think of anything to say, and for fuck’s sake, where’s Hongseok when he needs him? “Um, I don’t- I don’t stay in the dorms.” And before he can help himself, he blurts out, “I don’t stay anywhere, actually.”

He’d usually have somewhere to live, it came with the job, to keep up appearances, at the very least, but since they weren’t expecting this one to take any longer than a few weeks, on top of the fact that it’d been on such short notice, Changgu hadn’t bothered setting him up with a place. And it’s not like he minded it, because he doesn’t need to sleep or anything anyway, plus that park that he and Hongseok have claimed as their own is comfortable enough for him. But now he’s stuck in yet another mess, and he doesn’t even have Hongseok here to help him out of it.

“I’m sorry,” Hwitaek almost laughs, disbelief in his voice. “Did you just say you don’t stay anywhere?”

Hyojong’s shoulders lift weakly, and he calls on his years and years of bluffing his way out of everything to say, “You see, there was a mix up with my accommodation placement when I transferred, and they couldn’t find a room for me. They said that they’d get me one as soon as there’s a space, that in the meantime, I should find somewhere else to stay, but well…”

To make his story sell, Hyojong puts on the saddest face he can conjure up, eyes pooling with pity, sniffling just slightly.

Hwitaek seems to be in shock, like he can’t comprehend the situation, speaking so fast that Hyojong can barely catch his words.

“So where have you been sleeping this whole time? And where are all your things? Is that why you were always hanging around campus for no reason?”

Hyojong fakes a pained sigh. “Bus stops, libraries, that 24-hour burger joint in town.” He lifts the bag that’s constantly hooked over his shoulder. “Everything I own is in here. And yeah, whenever I couldn’t find anywhere to crash, I’d just come to campus and stick around until my classes started.”

It sounds ridiculous, all of it, like a tragedy straight out of a drama, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Hwitaek called him out on his bullshit right there and then, but instead, the guy clutches his own chest, sympathy tracing the lines of his face, and for once, Hyojong is grateful that Hwitaek is the nice guy that he is.

He expects Hwitaek to offer to help him find a place to stay, a hotel, a guest house, anything. But he definitely doesn’t see it coming when Hwitaek says, “Come live with me.”

Hyojong blinks. Once. Twice. “Excuse me?”

“Come live with me!” Hwitaek repeats, more sure of himself now. “I live alone in a two-bedroom apartment and I’ve been meaning to look for a roommate. And- And I really don’t feel right about letting you stay out on the streets like this.”

“Oh no, I- I couldn’t-”

“Please,” Hwitaek insists, giving him a look that’s so earnest, it makes Hyojong want to give him all his money. “At the very least, just stay until they find a place for you in the dorms. Okay?”

If it were up to him, Hyojong would say yes in a heartbeat, would just walk right up to Hwitaek’s apartment right now. But there’s this annoying voice in the back of his head that’s telling him it’s a bad idea, that this could mess things up even more. It sounds an awful lot like Hongseok, if he’s being honest, but _no,_ Hongseok isn’t here right now, so fuck it.

“Only until I get a dorm of my own,” Hyojong says, knowing that it’ll never happen, but he’ll probably be gone before Hwitaek begins to get suspicious anyway.

Hwitaek lets out a squeal, clapping his hands together excitedly, and he says, “Come on then!”

His apartment building is right outside campus, close enough to walk to classes without breaking a sweat, and Hyojong’s about to follow him inside when he hears-

“Don’t.”

He turns to see Hongseok, the ghost’s eyes dark, face somber. Hyojong shoots a glance at Hwitaek, saying, “Go on in. I’ll be right behind you.”

Hwitaek’s too thrilled about getting a roommate to even notice that there’s something off with Hyojong, chirping out an, “Okay!” before he goes in, leaving Hyojong alone with Hongseok.

“Please don’t go in there,” Hongseok whispers, his voice so low that Hyojong can barely hear him.

Hyojong’s jaw sets tightly, trying not to sound petty when he says, “How nice of you to show up now.”

Hongseok seems like he’s about to say something, mouth already open, but he decides against it, just shaking his head slowly. “Hyojong, just- Listen to me, okay? Please don’t go-”

“I wouldn’t have to if you were there just now!” Hyojong hisses back, lips curling into a snarl. “So much for having my back, right?”

He doesn’t give Hongseok a chance to say anything else, shoving him off when he tries to grab onto his arm, and just as he shuts the door, he sees the hurt in Hongseok’s eyes and right then, Hyojong feels like the worst friend in the world.

“Everything okay?” Hwitaek asks when he comes in, and Hyojong nods, flashing a quick smile.

“Yeah, I just had to take a call.” He looks around the apartment and it’s a lot nicer than he’d expected, definitely bigger than the brief glances he’d seen of it before. He trails behind Hwitaek quietly as he gives him a small tour of the apartment, the place neat and tidy, just like he’d expect from someone like him. When Hwitaek shows him the room that he’ll be staying in, Hyojong can’t help but ask, “How the hell can you even afford a place like this?”

He winces when he realises how that sounds, biting his tongue. “Sorry, I just meant- You’re a uni student, you don’t even get paid for your piano lessons, you don’t have anyone to split the rent with…”

Hwitaek chuckles at that, head nodding. “No, I get what you mean. A lot of people ask me that too, and the thing is, I actually got this place for really cheap.”

Hyojong tilts his head, asking him to continue.

The guy fidgets uncomfortably for a moment, nose scrunching up. “No one wanted to buy this place, for a long, long time, so the realtors were getting desperate, they dropped the prices so low, and still, no one wanted it.”

“How come?”

“I don’t mean to sound insensitive,” Hwitaek says, holding his palms up, voice growing hushed. “But the last guy who lived here died.”

Hyojong’s blood freezes in his veins.

“So, you know, people and their superstitions, no one wanted to live in a dead guy’s house, but apparently, he didn’t even die _here,_ he died in a hospital! But people still refused to buy the place, so I figured, well, more for me, you know?”

Hyojong hears ringing in his ears, sees black spots, and-

“I hope that doesn’t change your mind about staying here,” Hwitaek says then, looking worried, and Hyojong is quick to tell him, “No, of course not. I really appreciate you letting me stay.”

He lets out a relieved breath, smiling again. “Well, everything’s set up in here, and the bathroom’s just to your right, so just go ahead and settle in, okay? My room is right across the hall.”

Hyojong nods, thanking him again, and as soon as he’s shut himself in his room, he crashes onto the bed, muffling his groan in his pillow. _Fuck._ He’s such an idiot. What is he doing here? How could he have let this happen? He should’ve just listened to Hongseok. He should’ve-

_Hongseok._

Hyojong feels awful, guilty, a knife twisting in his gut, and he waits for Hwitaek to fall asleep, pacing impatiently across the space of his room, and once he’s sure that the guy is fast asleep, he locks his door and finds his way back to the park.

A part of him worries that Hongseok won’t be there, that he’d upset him so much that he wouldn’t want to see him anymore, but he sees a familiar figure lying in the grass, and he goes over to lie next to him, movements careful.

Hyojong isn’t sure what to say to him, and Hongseok doesn’t seem to want to speak first either, so he swallows his pride, saying, “That was your house, wasn’t it?”

All Hongseok can manage is a nod.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Hyojong asks, shuffling around to face him. “When we were scouting him, we dropped by his place a few times. So, why didn’t you just say so?”

Hongseok speaks slow, answering, “I didn’t think it would matter.” He turns to look at Hyojong, a half-hearted smile on his face. “I didn’t think you were going to live there.”

They both turn away then, looking up at the sky instead and it’s empty tonight, not even a single star in sight. And again, Hyojong wonders if there’s anyone up there looking out for him. He doesn’t think they’d be very proud of what they see.

“I’m sorry,” Hyojong says then, and he means it. He really does.

“So am I,” Hongseok says back, and he means it. He really does.

He offers a hand, holding it up between them. “Still got my back?”

Hongseok clasps his hand onto Hyojong's, squeezing once. “As long as you've got mine.”

It’s nice, Hyojong thinks. It’s nice to have a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are very much appreciated! ♡
> 
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	4. “am i high?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW okay this update is a little late sorry about that and i'm not gonna lie most of this was written in one sitting aka today so i'm sorry if there are any mistakes i'll go through and proofread it when i can and uhhhhh this chapter was pretty fun to write bc finally some huidawn actually kinda happens so i hope you all like it!!!

Living with Hwitaek turns out a lot better than Hyojong had hoped. See, he’d been worried that Hwitaek would be the type of roommate to constantly be sticking his nose into Hyojong’s affairs, which would make his job a lot more difficult, but he gives Hyojong his own space, his own privacy, minding his own business. In fact, for someone who’s always so full of energy, Hwitaek is actually quiet when he’s at home, like he just wants to rest in silence. Being as nice as him all day must be exhausting. Not that Hyojong would know.

Hwitaek goes to classes in the morning, volunteers through the afternoon, comes back in the evenings just in time to see Hyojong off before he leaves for his supposed night classes, and he gets off work just as Hyojong’s classes finish, so they walk back together every night, talking about their days. It’s nice, Hyojong thinks.

It’s almost like a routine, like it’s something they’ve just always done, and Hyojong wonders how it was so easy for them to fall into it, wonders how hard it’ll be for him to pull himself out once he has to leave.

Because that’s the thing, isn’t it? He has to leave at some point, and now that he and Hwitaek are closer, his target opening up to him more and more with each day that passes, it won’t be long before this mission is over. Then he’ll go, and Hwitaek will forget him, and everything that’s happened in the past few weeks will be nothing but another finished job in his books.

But Hwitaek isn’t the only one Hyojong will be leaving behind. He has Hongseok to think about now too. He doesn’t know if Hongseok will forget him, if he’ll remember him forever, if he’ll be forced to continue being stuck on Earth knowing that Hyojong had left him.

He isn’t sure how he feels about it.

The questions eat away at him every single second, making his mind flood with worry, but he tries his best to will them away, to push them aside for another day. And when Hwitaek smiles at him as he says goodnight from across the hall, when Hongseok makes him laugh at another one of his stupid jokes, when Hyojong feels like maybe, just maybe, he’s meant to be here, to be a part of their world, it makes it a little easier to forget that this’ll all come to an end soon.

Hongseok still refuses to come to the apartment, still uncomfortable about being in a place where he used to live, a place where he used to be alive. There’s nothing there that belongs to him anymore, Hwitaek had told Hyojong that the apartment had been completely bare when he moved in, but he doesn’t think that that would make Hongseok feel any better. If anything, it might just make him feel worse, like they’d just gotten rid of any evidence that he’d been there, that he’d even existed at all.

So Hyojong doesn’t say anything about it when they meet up late at night, after Hwitaek’s fallen asleep, Hyojong climbing up the fire escape to the roof of the building where they lay flat on their backs, gazing up at the bleak sky, just like they always do.

“This concrete is too hard,” Hongseok complains sometimes, squirming around, hands tucked under his head. “Why don’t we just go back to the park?”

Hyojong kicks him to make him stop wriggling around. “It’s too far to walk,” he says, eyes shut, breathing slow.

“You have wings,” Hongseok counters, and well, that’s true.

So, on some nights, because he’s a good friend, Hyojong makes the extra effort to fly back to the park, Hongseok simply transporting himself over, the two of them making it a game to see who can get there first. Hongseok always wins. Hyojong never minds it.

He always makes sure to sneak back in just before Hwitaek wakes, pretending to be asleep when the guy checks in on him before he leaves for class, a hidden smile on his face when Hwitaek whispers, “I left breakfast on the table for you, Hyojongie.”

And there comes a morning when Hwitaek knocks on his door gently, the old wood creaking when he pushes it open just enough to poke his head in, asking, “Hyojong? Are you awake?”

Hyojong pretends to shuffle around in his bed, fakes a long yawn, pushes himself up against the headboard as he rubs the nonexistent sleep from his eyes.

“Mm-hm, why?” he asks, and it’s only then that he notices that Hwitaek is still in his pyjamas, which is odd considering he’d usually be halfway out the door by this time.

“My classes got cancelled today,” is what he says then, head leaning against the doorframe. “I was gonna make breakfast, so I was wondering if you wanted to come help me.”

Hyojong doesn’t, actually, because though he doesn’t need actual sleep, being in his human body does tire him out sometimes, so getting to laze around in a comfy bed all day has been working out pretty nicely for him. But he figures that this is one of those rare chances that he’ll get at spending some quality time with Hwitaek where they’re not rushing off here and there, where they’re not being distracted by other people, some time to just talk to him properly for once. Plus, it’d be rude of him to turn the guy down, especially after he’d been so hospitable to him.

So he stretches his arms up, swinging his legs out of bed, and he says, “Yeah, that’d be cool.”

Hwitaek’s breakfasts are usually nothing more than a simple egg and toast, or rice and leftover soup if he’s up for it, because he never has time to go all out with a full spread, but Hyojong doesn’t mind it much, because it’s not like he has any craving for food anyway. He eats whatever Hwitaek makes him though, because he’d feel bad if he didn’t.

But since it’s his day off of a sort and he’s got some time on his hands, Hwitaek starts whipping up a proper meal, with rice and meat and so many side dishes that Hyojong can’t even count them. He helps where he can, which isn’t much since he’s never really had a hand in cooking, but he follows Hwitaek’s instructions well enough, even managing to make an omelette of his own at one point.

Hwitaek gives him a thumbs up when he shows it off, and Hyojong feels just a little bit proud of himself.

They weave around each other easily as they set the table, putting out matching plates and cups, their food spread out in the middle even though Hyojong had said he wouldn’t mind just sitting in the kitchen.

“No, no, no,” Hwitaek tells him, waving his hands, ushering him towards the table. “It’s our first real breakfast together as roommates, it should be special.”

“Okay, okay,” Hyojong says, because who is he to deny the man of the house? A fond smile curls his lips when they take their seats opposite each other, socked feet bumping against one another’s under the table and Hyojong can’t help but feel like the entire thing is almost domestic in a way.

He gets distracted by the way Hwitaek eats, how careful he is, taking the exact same scoop of food each time, his cheeks puffing out when he chews, and really, it’s a little endearing, if he’s being honest. And if Hwitaek notices him staring, he doesn’t say anything about it.

The food isn’t that bad, Hyojong actually manages to stomach the entire meal, complimenting Hwitaek on his cooking once they’re done, and Hwitaek breaks out into that sunshine smile of his, cheeks tinted with the softest shade of pink that Hyojong has ever seen.

Hyojong wants to kiss him.

Then he wonders why he even thought that.

He helps Hwitaek clean up the kitchen, putting things away, wiping down the counter, and when they’re washing dishes side by side, Hyojong soaping and Hwitaek rinsing, he’s hit by that wave of domesticity again, feeling like he could get used to living like this, like he could get used to Hwitaek. He doesn’t think he should be feeling those kinds of things.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he feels a splash of water on his face, turning to see Hwitaek with a cheeky grin on his face, mischief in his eyes. And at first, he’s too stunned by the sudden playfulness to do anything about it, but then he gets his senses back, and Hyojong flicks his hand at him in return, soap suds landing on the tip of his nose, making him let out the most adorable giggle. Hyojong feels his heart explode in his chest.

They go back and forth like that, a war of bubbles and water, dirty dishes left to be forgotten, sliding to and fro across the narrow space of the kitchen, their laughter echoing off the tiled walls, the house being filled with noise for the first time since Hyojong’s been here. And he thinks he really could get used to this. He thinks he wants to get used to this.

Hyojong gasps when Hwitaek sprays just a bit too much water on him, soaking him from the top of his head, dripping down his face, seeping through his thin shirt and-

“Oops!” Hwitaek tries to muffle his chuckles behind his hands, but he’s not doing a very good job at it, looking so entertained that Hyojong can’t find it in him to even be upset.

He tries – and fails – to keep a smile of his own down, his eyes rolling weakly as he pulls off his wet shirt, turning to wring it out in the sink.

Hwitaek’s laughter fades in the background, being replaced with a sound of surprise, and, “Whoa, cool tat-”

He doesn’t even get to finish before Hyojong realises what’s happening, the tips Hwitaek’s fingers meeting his inked skin, just barely, but it’s enough, it’s too much, and-

Hwitaek lets out a scream when Hyojong’s back seems to tear open, the tattoo on his back burning white, coming to life, his wings spreading wide where he stands.

“ _No,_ ” Hyojong whispers under his breath, turning around in horror, but it’s too late, and as soon as he meets Hwitaek’s gaze, the guy faints.

“ _Fuck._ Fuck, fuck, fuck, fu-”

“What the hell happened?” Hongseok appears by his side in a flash, as if Hyojong’s panic had reached out to him wherever he was like a signal, eyes going wide at the scene that he’s met with. “Why is he on the floor? Why are you shirtless? Why are your wings out?”

Hyojong makes an incomprehensible noise, too flustered to even make sense of what just happened, his words coming out in stuttered pieces. “I- I don’t- He just- I was just- Then he _touched_ me- And- And-” He lets out a strangled cry, burying his face in his hands. “Changgu’s gonna fucking kill me.”

Hongseok still has no idea who this Changgu person is, but worrying about him isn’t going to help, so he grabs Hyojong’s shoulders, hissing, “Pull yourself together, man!” He jerks his head at Hwitaek’s unconscious body. “We gotta wake him up.”

“But-”

“Now, Hyojong!”

Hyojong whimpers at his harsh tone, but he does as he’s told, scooping the guy up in his arms, moving him to the couch. He gently pats his face until he begins to stir, eyes blinking in a daze as he comes to again and-

“No, don’t-” Hyojong is cut off when Hwitaek passes out yet again at the sight of his wings, body slumping back onto the couch, and Hyojong lets out a weak sound. “What are we gonna do?”

“Slap him.”

Hyojong’s head whips around to look at Hongseok, gaping at him. “Excuse me?”

“Slap him,” Hongseok repeats, no hesitancy in his tone, eyebrows arched high and sharp. “Do it.”

Hyojong looks back and forth between Hongseok and Hwitaek, wondering if he’s being serious, if he actually expects him to use force on Hwitaek, but before he can even protest, Hongseok takes his wrist, lifting his hand and swinging it right against Hwitaek’s face, Hyojong sucking in a sharp breath when he feels his palm smack onto his cheek.

He’s about to scold Hongseok for using him like that, but it does the job, and Hwitaek is waking up again, more steady this time, rubbing at his red cheek. Then his eyes land on Hyojong, jaw falling open, eyelids fluttering quick like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“You have wings,” he says, and Hyojong nods once.

“I know.”

“You have _wings,_ ” he says again, like he’s trying to get used to the feeling of the words on his tongue. “Actual wings. On your back. Like an angel.” He pauses, breathing in, squeaking out, “Are you an angel?”

Hyojong figures there’s no point hiding it now, not when he’s sat there with literal wings popping out of him. All he needs is a halo – which he’s _definitely_ not getting any time soon since only members of the Council got those – and he nods again, slower.

“Oh my god.” Hwitaek smacks a hand over his mouth. “Am I allowed to say that?”

“You can say whatever you want, I don’t care,” Hyojong tells him. “Just… Don’t pass out on me again, alright? It freaks me out.”

Hwitaek nods his head quickly, then- “Can I?” He gestures at Hyojong’s wings, getting up off the couch, movements stiff until Hyojong says, “Go ahead.” His hand shakes just a little when he reaches out for his wings, a gasp escaping his lips when his fingers touch the white feathers, and Hyojong isn’t sure whether it’s a good gasp or a bad gasp.

He touches his wings again, then he touches Hyojong’s face, as if he’s trying to make sure that he’s real, and when he’s got his face squished between his palms, definitely solid, Hwitaek says, “I’m dreaming, right? This whole thing, it- it’s a dream, isn’t it? Or-” He squeezes Hyojong’s face even more. “Am I high? Did you put something in the food?”

“My God, he’s an idiot,” Hongseok says then, watching Hwitaek carefully, looking rather unamused.

Hyojong doesn’t think before he clicks his tongue at the ghost, saying, “ _Stop,_ he’s not an idiot. He’s just confused.”

“Who are you talking to?” Hwitaek asks then and _fuck._ That’s right. He still can’t see Hongseok.

“No one,” he answers too quickly, then- “Someone.” He tries to bite his tongue. “The guy who used to live here.”

Hwitaek cries out, hands falling away from Hyojong’s face to come up to his own head, looking like he’s on the brink of a breakdown. “I’m high _and_ my house is haunted?”

“Totally an idiot,” Hongseok chimes again, and Hyojong punches his arm to shut him up.

“Okay, Hwitaek, look-” Hyojong takes a deep breath before he stands, holding his hands up. “I’m just gonna be frank with you here, alright? You’re not dreaming, you’re not high, I really am an angel and there is a ghost here, but he’s not haunting you. He’s my friend.”

When Hwitaek stays silent, he assumes that he’s listening, continuing with, “He’s been helping me because I was sent down to Earth to help you find love.” He points towards his room. “If you don’t believe me, go take a look inside my bag and you’ll find a folder with everything there is to know about my mission.”

Hyojong thinks the wings should be enough proof, but he supposes Hwitaek just wants to be sure, the guy hurrying over to his room to find the folder, shooting quick glances over his shoulder as though he’s worried that Hyojong might disappear.

“Is this allowed?” Hongseok asks then, perching himself on the arm of the couch when Hyojong sinks into it, head falling heavy into his palms. “Like, telling him what you are, what you do? Is it?”

Honestly? It isn’t. The whole point of creating these personas, these cover stories, hiding themselves under the guise of a human, is so that the targets won’t know anything about their Cupids. After all, the Cupid’s job is simply to guide, to arrange, to meddle here and there, but when it comes down to it, it should be the targets themselves who find their love, to go after it, seize it. None of that would mean anything if they knew that it was all under the influence of a higher power.

Hyojong supposes it’s their way of letting the humans believe that miracles are real, that they can happen, that there is such a thing as true love.

But he’s tired of the rules, tired of wasting time when he can just dive into it head first, get the job done and get out. As nice as it is playing house with Hwitaek, being friends with Hongseok, pretending that he could have a life here on Earth, at the end of the day, a job is a job and Hyojong just wants to go home.

So he doesn’t care about what’s right or what’s wrong, what’s allowed and what isn’t, because right now, he’s going to do whatever it takes to just finish the mission, to get Hwitaek together with Jinho, to finally give him the love he’s been looking for. And if that means exposing himself as a Cupid, as _his_ Cupid, so be it.

“I know what I’m doing,” he tells Hongseok, even though they both know it’s a lie.

Still, Hongseok doesn’t seem to call him out on it, no smartass remark on how Hyojong obviously has no idea what he’s doing. He thinks that maybe Hongseok realises that he doesn’t need to hear that right now. He thinks that maybe he understands. And his friend reaches out to pat him on the shoulder, just once, as a wish of good luck of some sort.

“Call me if you need me,” Hongseok says then, offering a small smile. Looking around, a shiver running up his spine, he adds, “This place gives me the creeps.”

He goes then, fading away as quickly as he had come, and Hyojong wishes he’d thanked him for coming in the first place. It must’ve been hard for him and still, he came for Hyojong. He appreciates that.

“There’s literally every single detail about my life in here,” Hwitaek says, walking back into the living room, eyes glued on the open folder. He crashes onto the couch right next to Hyojong, not even bothering to look up at him. “Even things that _I_ don’t know about myself. Like, do I really spend that much time in the library everyday? No wonder Yuto always calls me a fucking nerd.” He turns his head then, huffing out a sharp breath, and he says, “Okay, I believe you now.”

Hyojong’s eyebrows raise, just slightly amused by the boy. “That’s what it took to make you believe me?” he snorts. “The wings weren’t enough for you?”

“I thought I was hallucinating,” is Hwitaek’s reply, and Hyojong supposes that’s fair enough.

He shuts the folder, twisting his body to face Hyojong properly, his face pinched up in thought before he asks, “So, what are you really here for? You said you were sent here to help me find love… What does that mean?”

“It means exactly that,” Hyojong answers, shoulders lifting. “I’m a Cupid, you’re my target. I’ll help you find your true love, help you go after it, then once you’ve got it, my job will be done and I’ll go back to Heaven. Simple, right?”

“And that true love of mine…” Hwitaek is shy all of a sudden, sounding like a kid with a silly crush. “It’s Jinho?”

Hyojong hates that the name puts such a bad taste in his mouth, especially when he hears it from Hwitaek and he knows he shouldn’t be so bitter, knows that jealousy is something that he has no right to feel. But still, he can’t help the way he practically spits out his words when he says, “Yeah, I guess so.”

That doesn’t seem to sit well with Hwitaek, the guy scoffing at him. “What do you mean you guess so? You said you’re my Cupid! Shouldn’t you be sure of it?”

“It’s not-” Hyojong holds back a roll of his eyes. “These things, they’re not black and white, okay? There’s no way of knowing for sure that the person you’re going after is the right one until it actually happens. Us Cupids, we- we’re only matchmakers, and sometimes, the matches are wrong. We can’t control that.”

Hwitaek frowns. “Well, if they’re wrong… What happens then?”

“We find a new match,” Hyojong explains. “However many it takes, until we find the right one. And until then, I can’t leave. My mission is to help you find love, so until you truly do, I’m stuck here.”

Hwitaek’s face begins to fall even more at that, and before he starts worrying too much, Hyojong quickly says, “But most people are lucky, most of them find their true love right from the start. And _you,_ I mean, I think you’ve got a pretty good chance with this Jinho.”

“You really think so?” Hwitaek asks, bottom lip between his teeth.

Hyojong ignores the twist in his gut when he makes himself say, “Yeah, I do. So don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll do what I can to help you, you’ll get him, and I’ll go home.” He cracks a half-hearted smile. “Win-win for both of us, right?”

That seems to make Hwitaek feel better, sitting up straighter, nodding in agreement.

“So,” he starts, a thoughtful hum in his voice. “The other day, when you said that me and Jinho would make good boyfriends, that was part of your plan? You were trying to help me?”

Hyojong flashes a bashful smile. “Yeah, but… I should’ve been more subtle about it,” he admits, hand coming up to scratch the back of his head. “It’s just- I guess I was trying to move things along quicker, to just get it over with, you know? See, my last mission lasted _forever,_ it really wore me out. That last target was a stubborn one. The most difficult little thing I’ve ever had to deal with, but he’s a good kid, and it all worked out in the end.” A wry smile finds its way onto his face. “I think you know him actually.”

Hwitaek looks back at him in confusion for a moment, then it seems to click, his eyes widening and- “ _Hyunggu?_ ” When Hyojong nods in confirmation, he gasps, realisation settling in. “So, that’s how you knew him! You’re not really in his dance class, are you?”

“Nope.”

“And you’re not really a transfer student?”

“Also nope.”

“And the piano lessons? That was all a part of it too?”

“Uh-huh.”

Hwitaek falls back against the seat, disbelief written across his face, lips still parted in that gasp of his. “I…” He breathes in, long, deep, then he smacks himself on the forehead. “Oh, I should’ve known.”

Hyojong arches an eyebrow, gesturing for him to continue, wondering what he means by that.

“I heard you playing once, after one of our lessons,” he says then, looking at Hyojong. “I guess you thought that I’d already left, but… You were incredible. You play even better than me.” He lets out a small laugh, head shaking. “I don’t know why I never thought anything of it. And the whole no touching thing? I always wondered what that was about, but I guess I just figured you had your reasons, and that maybe you’d tell me someday, and well…”

“Well,” Hyojong echoes, breathing out a heavy sigh. He gives Hwitaek a small smile. “I’m sorry. About all the lying and crashing at your place and stuff. It was just part of the job, you know? It was the only way I could get close to you.”

For a moment there, Hwitaek seems to falter, like he was hurt that Hyojong said it was all just a job, their friendship, everything. Nothing but another job to him. But it’s gone in an instant, and Hwitaek offers a smile of his own, waving a dismissive hand at him. “No, it’s okay. You were just doing what you had to. To help me, right?”

“Right,” is all Hyojong can say. And he tells himself it means nothing, what he’d just seen in Hwitaek’s eyes, because how could it mean anything? Now that everything’s out in the open, all Hyojong is to him is someone who’s trying to help him. Not a friend, not more than that either. And it should be the same for Hyojong. Hwitaek is nothing but a target to him, nothing more, nothing less. A job, one that he has to finish, one that he will finish.

He claps his hands together, straightens his back, adjusts his wings. “So, now that you know, well, _everything,_ ” Hyojong begins. “It makes it a lot easier for the both of us. We can just get straight into it. No more detours, got it?”

“Got it.” Hwitaek pauses. “How exactly are we going to do this?”

Hyojong gives Hwitaek a pointed look, eyebrows arched. “Well, for starters, you’re gonna have to actually tell Jinho that you like him.”

“But-” Hwitaek’s face flushes at that, his voice coming out hoarse. “What if he- Can’t I just- I- I don’t know, like, test the waters first? It’d be embarrassing if I just went up to confess my love to him and get completely shut down.”

Hyojong thinks it’s a waste of time, thinks he should just march up to him and get the man he wants, but he has to remind himself that this isn’t about what he thinks. It’s about Hwitaek, and-

He sighs. “What, so, you wanna flirt with him a bit? See if he shows any interest? That kind of thing?”

Hwitaek nods, a little too eager, and Hyojong sighs again, rubbing a tired hand over his face.

“Fair enough,” he says, then he stands, stretching his arms out, flexing his wings. He looks down at Hwitaek. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

“What? Why not today-”

“Because, Hwitaek, you may know the truth now, but Hyunggu still doesn’t,” Hyojong explains, sounding exasperated. “And I don’t plan to let him find out, so I still have a stupid dance class to get to this afternoon.” He narrows his eyes. “And you better keep your mouth shut about this, okay? I’ve broken enough rules already by telling you.”

Hwitaek makes a zipping motion across his lips, holding his hand up, palm open. “Your secret is safe with me, Hyojongie.”

He watches him with a careful eye, wondering if he can really take his word for it, but he sees nothing but pure fucking sincerity, in his warm eyes, his kind smile, and Hyojong knows he can trust him.

He’s never really trusted anyone before, but he knows he can trust Hwitaek.

—

As much as Hyojong has a knack for breaking the rules, going against their laws, simply just fucking up his duty for laughs, his bad habits come with a consequence.

And that consequence goes by the name of Changgu.

“You revealed yourself,” is the first thing that Changgu says to him, stopping him right in the middle of the street, and Hyojong really hates that the younger is taller than him.

“Well, hello to you too,” he shoots back dryly, trying to sidestep him, scowling when Changgu just matches his movements, continuing to block his way.. “I’m doing fine, thanks for asking.”

“ _Hyojong._ ” The angel has that stern face of his on, the one he has when he means business, when he’s not in the mood to entertain Hyojong’s antics. “You know you’re not supposed to reveal yourself, to give away your mission like that. You should’ve just waited for me to come. I would’ve wiped his memory of your wings right there and then, but now-”

“Now, everything’s easier,” Hyojong cuts in, still trying to push past him, trying to make Changgu see the things the way he does. “No more secrets, no more lies. It’s better this way.”

Changgu sucks in a sharp breath, his voice heavy as he tries to reason with him. “But there’s a reason we do things the way we do,” he says. “If he knows what you are, what you do, then… It takes away the wonder, the _magic-_ ”

“Who gives a shit about the magic?” Hyojong groans, not even trying to hide the way his eyes roll at him. “My job is to help him find love, and this is the best way to do it. I’m sure of it. So can’t you just let it slide? Just this once.”

“But-”

“When have I ever failed a mission?” Hyojong asks then, arms crossing, chin jutting out. “Hmm? Tell me, have I ever?”

“Well, _no-_ ”

“See!” Hyojong reaches up to clasp his hands onto Changgu’s shoulders. “So, don’t worry about it, okay? I know how to handle this. I just need you to cover me if the Council asks about it.”

That makes Changgu squirm, looking uncomfortable, unwilling. “Hyojongie, you know I can’t-”

He squeezes his eyes shut, nostrils flaring in frustration, and- “You know what, I don’t have time for this right now,” he tells Changgu, pushing him aside. “I need to get to my dance class.”

“Dance- What? Since when do you have a dance class?”

Hyojong turns back to him, his face growing sour, voice turning cold. “Since I bumped into Hyunggu the other day and had to come up with a plan to save my own ass.”

Changgu’s mouth curls into a frown. “Hyunggu? Wasn’t that your last target?”

“Exactly! It is him. He’s _here._ I met him, when I shouldn’t have seen him ever again in my entire existence, but because of _you-_ ” Hyojong jabs a sharp finger at Changgu’s chest. “You didn’t do the right research. You gave me a target whose best fucking friend is my last target. You are the one who’s supposed to make sure things like this don’t happen.” He presses his finger in deeper, making him feel it. “So don’t tell me that you can’t do me this one tiny favour when you fucked up too, Changgu.”

That takes the words right out of Changgu’s mouth, whatever he wanted to say dying on his tongue, and Hyojong takes his silence as an agreement for both of them to just sweep their mistakes under the rug and be done with it.

“Now, really, I have to go,” Hyojong tells him. Looking past him, he yells, “Hurry up, Hongseok! You know Hyunggu gets cranky when I’m late.”

“Hongseok?” Changgu whispers to himself, the name echoing in his mind like a faded memory. His face goes pale when the guy rushes past him, his eyes shaking, mouth falling open and-

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” Hongseok jokes, throwing a grin at him and Changgu feels his knees go weak.

“Y-You-” Changgu doesn’t get to finish, Hyojong grabbing Hongseok by the ear to drag him away, calling out, “Bye, Changgu!”

Changgu can only manage a weak wave of his hand, watching as they get further and further, disappearing from his sight, and as soon as they’re gone, as soon _he’s_ gone, his knees finally give out.

_Hongseok._

_His Hongseok._

—

Plan Get-Hwitaek-To-Flirt-With-Jinho turns out to be the worst plan either of them have come up with, because despite how perfect Hwitaek seems, his flirting skills are just… _sad,_ to put it kindly. Hyojong can’t say anything for himself because he’s never actually needed to flirt with anyone – save for that little conversation he had with Hwitaek when they had first met, which was definitely _not_ flirting – but he’s seen endless amounts of flirting in his years as a Cupid, so he has a pretty decent idea of how you’re meant to go about it. And at this point, he thinks even Hongseok, the self-proclaimed loner who’s supposedly never flirted with anyone in his whole life, would be better at it than Hwitaek is.

The first few days weren’t too bad, mostly because Hwitaek never got the guts to say anything more than hi to him, but Hyojong had urged him to try harder, so he did, and Hyojong wished he hadn’t said anything at all.

He watches as Hwitaek goes over to Jinho for the third time in the past hour, trying to slide into the chair next to him smoothly, only to trip on the leg of the chair and send himself flying face first into the floor. Even when Jinho tries to help him up, he brushes him off too quickly, saying, “No! It’s fine, hyung. I’m fine.”

Hyojong grumbles a curse under his breath, gripping his head in frustration. “You’re supposed to let him help you, you idiot.”

He and Hongseok are in the corner of the class, the both of them hidden from human sight, but Hwitaek knows they’re there, watching him, guiding him, and maybe it’s the pressure from their presence that’s got him so flustered, but Hyojong thinks he’s really just terrible at the whole flirting thing.

He floats over to Hwitaek, letting him hear his voice, saying, “Knock his book over. Help him pick it up. Hold his hand.”

Hwitaek gives a subtle nod in return, showing that he understands, and he does as he’s told, shuffling his elbow forward to nudge Jinho’s book over the edge of the table and-

“Ow!”

“Oh no!” Hwitaek jumps out of his seat when he sees that the heavy book lands right on top of Jinho’s foot, picking it up right away, scrambling to his feet again.

Jinho’s head is knocked back when Hwitaek accidentally swings the book right at his face, the latter crying out, “Hyung! Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” He tosses the book aside in a haste, moving towards the elder. “Are you oka-”

“What are you doing?” Jinho almost yells at him, rubbing at his sore chin, looking at the book that’s gone halfway across the room by now. “That book is expensive!”

Hwitaek makes a whimpered noise, quickly going to retrieve the book, placing it gently on Jinho’s table once he does, apologising over and over and over before he retreats to the back of the class, hiding his burning face behind his hands. Hyojong and Hongseok watch him in despair, exchanging an equally hopeless look between them, letting out heavy sighs.

“This isn’t going to work,” Hongseok says, his head shaking in disappointment.

“Definitely not,” Hyojong agrees, and _fuck._

They need a new plan.

—

Hyojong sits Hwitaek down in their living room later that night, for an intervention of a sort, feeling a little bit sorry for the guy as he slumps forward in his seat, still embarrassed by the whole ordeal with Jinho.

“I was horrible, wasn’t I?” Hwitaek asks, sounding glum, dejected.

“Not _horrible-_ ” Hyojong starts, but Hongseok gives him a look and- “Okay, maybe a bit horrible, but-”

Hwitaek falls forward, burying his face into a cushion, letting out a sad whine. “I bet Jinho hates me now,” he sobs, his words coming out muffled. “He’ll never want to speak to me again. I’ll never find my true love.”

Hongseok mutters something about him being a drama queen, but Hyojong pays no mind to it, focusing his attention on his target.

“Hwitaek, he’s not gonna hate you because of something as tiny as that,” he tries to say, reaching out to pat his head in comfort.

He doesn’t have to bother watching his boundaries now, comfortable enough to just hang around with his wings out without worrying that Hwitaek will pass out every time he sees him. It’s a lot less exhausting like this, not having to keep up his human appearances, another perk of coming clean about what he is. And the fact that he’s still here on Earth and not being questioned in front of the Council’s court means that Changgu hadn’t told them about what he did, so he sends a silent thank you up to his brother, hoping that it reaches him because he hasn’t seen him since the other day. He wonders why. The angel usually sticks around for a few days to check up on Hyojong, spend some time with him, not wanting to waste the energy it takes to travel down to Earth, but this time, he just... _left._  

He taps Hwitaek’s head again, asking him to look up, and when he does, his face is a mess of misery and tear-stained cheeks.

Hyojong wants to kiss it all away.

And again, he wonders why he thought that.

“What happened back there, huh?” Hyojong asks then, before he loses his grip, clearing his throat, backing away. “You’re not usually that much of a train wreck.” He winces at his words once he hears them, reminding himself to be more tactful. “What I mean is, why were you so… _awkward?_ ”

“I don’t know,” Hwitaek answers, his mouth pushing out into a pout. “I guess he just makes me nervous. Why do you think I’ve never tried going after him before?”

Hyojong’s fingers come up to press against his temples, willing away the headache that he doesn’t actually have, wondering how he’s supposed to work with this. How is he going to get Hwitaek and Jinho together if Hwitaek can’t even be around the guy for five seconds without self-combusting? But…

“What about when you performed together the other night?” Hyojong voices out, his face lighting up like a lightbulb had switched on in his brain. “You were fine then, right? You were great even.”

Hwitaek blows out a breath through his lips, shoulders shrugging loosely. “I mean, that was singing. I’m always comfortable when I’m performing.”

“So, that’s it!” Hyojong gets blank looks in return, from both Hwitaek and Hongseok, and he shakes his head at them, wondering what he’d done to be stuck with these idiots. He looks between them before he settles his gaze on Hwitaek. “If you’re comfortable when you’re performing, then why don’t you just sing to him? Confess to him through a song?”

It finally clicks, the both of them gasping in sync, letting out an identical, “Ah…” and for a moment, Hyojong wishes Hwitaek could see Hongseok too. That would be nice.

“Our duet evaluation is at the end of the week,” Hwitaek says then, recalling the song he had composed for them, the lyrics that he’d obviously written with Jinho in mind. “I- I guess I could use that song. To confess to him, I mean.”

A relieved grin stretches Hyojong’s lips, and he doesn’t know why it feels forced. “Perfect!” he says, clapping his hands together. “So, it’s set. You’ll confess to him then. Now in the meantime, just try not to smack him in the face with a textbook again, okay?”

Hyojong gets up to leave, planning to just lock himself in his room for a day or two while he awaits his impending doom, that is the torture of having to watch Hwitaek and Jinho actually get together with his own two eyes, because he’s certain that there isn’t a single person in this world who wouldn’t fall completely in love with Hwitaek if he’s singing to them. Suddenly he regrets suggesting the idea in the first place. Fuck his genius plan.

But before he can go, he feels Hwitaek grab his wrist, tugging on it slightly, and he can’t find it in him not to turn back.

“Yeah?”

“I was just wondering if-” Hwitaek drops his gaze, head shaking. “You know what, never mind. It sounds silly now that I think about it.”

Hyojong wiggles his wrist in his hold, pulling his attention to him again. “No, tell me. What is it?”

Hwitaek’s eyes flicker nervously, his grip tightening without him meaning to, his voice small when he answers him. “It’s just… When people tell someone that they love them, they usually, like, _kiss_ or something, right?”

Hyojong nods, wondering where he’s going with this.

“Well, I wanna do that too, but…” He coughs. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Immediately, Hyojong’s eyes find Hwitaek’s lips, those odd thoughts coming back to him, filling his mind like a haze, making his vision go blurry, the only thing in focus being his mouth, smooth and pretty and full, watching how it curves, the gentle lines of it, and Hyojong really, really just wants to-

“Can you teach me?”

Hyojong blinks, everything becoming clear again, and he sees Hwitaek looking up at him with hopeful eyes. “M-Me? Teach you?”

His first instinct is to turn to Hongseok for help, but the ghost gives him nothing but a small snort, saying, “Why are you looking at me? I didn’t even have any friends. What makes you think I’ve ever kissed anyone?”

_Shit._

Hyojong turns back to Hwitaek, an awkward laugh leaving his throat, trying to slip his hand out of Hwitaek’s grip. “You know, I- I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he tries to tell him. “I don’t know anything about kissing either.”

“But you’re a Cupid,” Hwitaek counters, a small frown pulling at his lips. His stupid fucking lips. Hyojong should cover his mouth with duct tape. “Surely you’ve seen people kiss before.” He tilts his head, innocent, sweet, and Hyojong feels his willpower begin to wear thin. “And isn’t it your job to help me?”

He feels his mouth go dry at that, unsure how to respond to his words, because he’s right. Hyojong is supposed to help him, with whatever he can, whatever he asks, but no one has ever asked him for help with _this._ And he waits for Hongseok to tell him not to do it, to tell him he’d be a fucking moron if he did, but his friend is silent, as if he’s given up on trying to make sure that Hyojong doesn’t mess this up. Or maybe he just wants to see Hyojong make a fool out himself by kissing Hwitaek. The latter seems more likely.

“Well, I…”

Hwitaek tugs on his wrist yet again, hard enough to pull him down to sit opposite him, their knees brushing now and Hyojong can’t bring himself to move away.

“Just try it,” Hwitaek says, his cheeks already red, still streaked with dried tears, and when his eyes fall shut, all Hyojong can see is his lips again. Nothing but those lips of his. And again, those thoughts swirl around him like a dark cloud, pushing him closer, tempting him, and maybe he could just…

It’s Hyojong who gasps when their mouths meet, his cold, Hwitaek’s warm, barely touching but it seems to flip a switch in him, and before he can stop himself, he’s pushing his lips against Hwitaek’s again, harder now, stronger. And it’s Hwitaek who gasps this time, his eyes flying open for a moment, dark gaze clashing with Hyojong’s before he closes them again, leaning in even more. Hyojong has no idea what he’s doing, just moving his mouth against Hwitaek’s, the way he thinks he should, but Hwitaek seems content with it, his fingers tensing around Hyojong’s wrist, nails digging into his skin, making goosebumps rise and-

“Hyojong, your wings,” he hears Hongseok hiss from behind him, and he’s quick to pull them back in against his body, hadn’t even realised that they’d begun to spread, suddenly embarrassed that Hwitaek’s kiss had that much of an effect on him.

“Dude, I can’t believe you just got a wing boner,” Hongseok laughs, and it’s enough to make Hyojong pull away from Hwitaek for the sole purpose of kicking Hongseok in the crotch. It’s not like ghosts needed their dicks anyway.

Hyojong barely manages to catch his breath before he turns to Hwitaek, who’s just sitting there with his lips still puckered, eyelids hooded, like he’s caught in a daze. And he says, “Yeah, so, uh, I hope that helped. I’m just gonna, um, _go._ Now. Yeah.”

He disappears into his room before Hwitaek can say anything, before Hongseok can embarrass him even more, before he kisses Hwitaek again. Because now that he’s standing there, his back pressed against the door, his lips still tingling, heart still racing, Hyojong thinks he wants to kiss Hwitaek again.

He thinks he wants to kiss him forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gasp.. hwitaek and hyojong? hwitaek and jinho? changgu and hongseok???? Stay Tuned For More......
> 
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	5. “what happens then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i just updated the other day but i had a pretty free week and this chapter was already planned out bc it was technically supposed to be a part of the previous chapter but the first half got too long which is why i cut it off and decided to continue the rest in this chapter which is also why this one is a bit shorter than usual so sorry about that but ! yeah here it is and it gets a little emo here honestly but please enjoy!!

_Changgu watches him from afar; from the back of his class, from three tables away at the café, from the corner of his room when he sleeps at night. He doesn’t do much, his days only spent doing the bare minimum, eating, sleeping, going to class. He doesn’t talk much either, but Changgu suspects that’s only because he has no one to talk to. Sometimes, Changgu wants to talk to him._

_But he doesn’t. Instead, he just watches and watches and watches, silent, hidden, like a shadow that follows him wherever he goes._

_Sometimes Changgu thinks he notices him, when he gets too close, when he loses focus, when he forgets what he’s there for. He’ll stop, look around him, a crinkle forming in the middle of his forehead like he’s trying to figure out what it is that’s bothering him, like an itch that he can’t quite seem to reach. It’s like he knows that Changgu is there, but he doesn’t want to let himself believe it._

_He’s not supposed to engage, not supposed to interfere unless he has to, so no matter how much Changgu wants to reveal himself, to give him someone to talk to, to show him that he is real, that he is there, he can’t. So, he just watches. Watches, watches, watches._

_Until there comes a day where he’s about to trip on a crack in the pavement, Changgu seeing it before it even happens, and he’s there in a flash, morphing into his human body, flesh and skin and bones, and just before he falls, Changgu catches him._

_He shouldn’t have, because it wasn’t that big of a threat, at most he would’ve gotten a scrape on his knee, one that would heal in a day or two. So Changgu doesn’t know why he’d done that, but he feels this overwhelming need to protect him, even from something as small as that. He doesn’t think he could handle it if he ever got hurt._

_And Changgu tells himself it’s nothing but his Guardian instincts kicking in, it’s his job to protect him after all, but when he turns in his arms, big eyes and parted lips, Changgu knows it’s a lot more than that._

_“Thanks,” he says, and he sounds just a bit breathless, his hands holding tight onto Changgu’s arms, even after he sets him down, steady on his feet. “You saved me.”_

_Changgu feels a blush creep onto his face at that, which is silly, because he shouldn’t be feeling these kinds of things, but he can’t seem to help it. “No, please,” he says, offering a small smile. “It was nothing.”_

_“Still,” he insists, giving him a smile of his own. His smile is nicer than Changgu’s. “You just… You came out of nowhere and caught me.” There’s a spark in his eyes right then, voice almost teasing. “Don’t tell me you’re my guardian angel or something?”_

_For a moment, Changgu thinks he’s being serious, thinks that maybe he had noticed Changgu after all, but there’s no actual recognition in his eyes, only wonder. He doesn’t know why it makes him feel a little disappointed._

_“Or something,” he answers, finally letting go of him, stepping away, and he misses the weight of him in his arms already. He ducks his head politely. “I’m Changgu.”_

_That makes his smile grow, and he says, “I’m Hongseok.”_

_Hongseok._

_His Hongseok._

—

Changgu likes coming to Earth, he really does. Unlike Hyojong who’s convinced that the Earth is nothing but a wasteland infested with those ‘disgusting little mortals’, Changgu finds the planet quite interesting. Sure, it’s not much compared to home and it’s gotten a lot worse since the beginning, but there are some places that are still as nice as they started out with, and he’s always been intrigued by the people that call Earth their home. The humans. How different they all are, how similar too, even when they think they aren’t. He likes watching them.

So usually, he’d be pretty excited to visit Earth again in such a short time, but now that he’s headed there, going straight to where Hyojong is, where Hongseok is, he feels a heavy pit in his stomach, weighing him down, making him feel sick. But he has to go, has to see him, and he lands in the middle of an empty park, graceful feet on damp grass, strong wings on his back, and-

“Show off,” he hears Hyojong say, glancing over to see his brother lying on his back, eyes cracked open just enough to look at Changgu. He pushes himself up, leaning on his elbows, jerking his chin at him. “Where have you been, huh?”

“I had some things to take care of,” Changgu answers, keeping his voice cool, and his presence grabs the attention of the other boy, his head lifting from where he’s lying next to Hyojong.

“Oh, hey, it’s you again,” Hongseok says, and Changgu is taken aback by the direct attention, his expression shifting into one of surprise, and it makes the ghost roll his eyes. “Why do you keep staring at me like that? Never seen a dead guy before or what?”

Changgu is quick to look away, averting his gaze, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” He pulls in a sharp breath, lets it out, turns back to him. “I’m Changgu.”

Hongseok sits up properly then. “I know,” is what he says, and Changgu feels a hopeful tug in his chest.

“Y-You do?”

“Yeah,” he nods, jerking a thumb to his side, flashing a shit-eating grin. “Hyojong always talks about how he wants to punch you in the face.”

That hope in him is crushed as quickly as it came, and of course he doesn’t remember. Changgu was stupid to think that he would.

“Right,” is all he can manage to say, and he can only hope that he doesn’t sound too disappointed. He doesn’t know what he expected from him, but knowing for sure that Hongseok has no clue who he is apart from what Hyojong’s told him, that he doesn’t remember him at all, leaves a bad feeling in his gut, almost making him regret coming back here. But then Changgu looks at him, at how he’s exactly the same as the last time he saw him, how he still looks so alive when he knows that he isn’t, and he thinks that maybe it’s okay that he doesn’t remember. Maybe it’s better that he doesn’t remember.

Changgu turns to Hyojong then, before he can lose himself in reminiscence, before he can forget why he’s here, asking, “Hyojong, can I talk to you?” When the elder makes no sign of moving, he shoots a quick glance at Hongseok, back to Hyojong. “Alone?”

Hyojong’s head rolls lazily to the side, his leg reaching out to nudge Hongseok in the thigh. “You heard him,” he tells his friend. “Go hang out in a graveyard or haunt some kids or something. Be a fucking ghost for once.”

Hongseok doesn’t seem to appreciate that, shoving Hyojong’s foot away with a little more force than necessary, and he doesn’t seem to appreciate being left out of the conversation either, but he gets up to leave anyway, as if knowing his place. It makes Changgu feel terrible.

“I’ll go check on your boyfriend,” Hongseok says, and Hyojong throws a rock at him, yelling, “He’s not my boyfriend!”

Hongseok just snorts at that, ducking away from the stone, chiming out an obnoxious, “O- _kay,_ ” before he disappears, waving a hand at them.

“Boyfriend?” Changgu muses, and Hyojong scowls up at him.

“Sit,” he says, so Changgu sits.

Neither of them say anything for a while, neither of them are sure what they should say, but Changgu had asked him if they could talk, so he figures he should be the first to speak.

“Do you remember when I used to be a Guardian?” he asks, and when he gets a nod in answer, he continues with, “And do you remember why I stopped being a Guardian?”

Another nod. Then- “Because your last target died, but-” Hyojong shuffles around to face him. “I told you, that’s what they’re supposed to do. They’re humans. They die.”

Changgu’s head shakes, voice drops. “He shouldn’t have died. He was too young. He still had so much to do, but…”

Hyojong opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but he decides against it, his hand falling onto Changgu’s shoulder instead. “Hey, we already talked about this, didn’t we?” he hums, tilting his head to meet Changgu’s sad eyes. “You couldn’t control that. Life and death, that- that’s not in our hands.”

“I know but-”

“You did your job, Changgu,” Hyojong tells him. “That’s all you had to do.”

 _I should’ve done more,_ Changgu thinks, but what could he have done? His job was to protect him throughout his life, until his time was up, and then he’d let him go. That was always the job. With anyone, anywhere, anytime, that’s the job. But _him._ He was always more than just a job. As much as Changgu tried to pretend he wasn’t, he always was more than that.

He can’t tell Hyojong that though, can’t tell him that someone had made him weak, that a _human_ had made him weak, so he only gives him a numb nod, trying to force a smile.

Hyojong doesn’t buy it, he never does, and he heaves a sigh, asking, “Why are you bringing this up all of a sudden? It was years ago.”

Changgu’s gaze flickers, unable to look at Hyojong now. He’s never been a very good liar after all. And he says, “Because I saw him again.”

“What do you mean you saw him again? How could you? He’s dea-” Hyojong’s face falls as realisation hits him, that hand of his pulling away from Changgu, fingers starting to tremble. “Changgu… Please don’t tell me-”

“It’s him,” he says, his voice breaking, head bowing lower. “It’s Hongseok.”

He hears Hyojong take a few breaths, like he’s trying to process it, like he’s trying to understand and- “How could- Y-You- _What?_ ” He stands, Changgu sees his feet pacing back and forth in front of him, still too afraid to look up. “First Hyunggu, now _this?_ How could you let this happen? How-” He crouches down, snapping his fingers in Changgu’s face, forcing him to focus on him. “What’s going on with you, huh? You never let these kinds of things slip past you. What happened this time?”

Changgu gapes at the ground, unable to find an answer for him because he doesn’t know what happened either. He’d just gotten the orders for the mission, passed it along to Hyojong like he always does. He hadn’t stopped to think that somehow both their pasts would come back to haunt them, never even considered it, and maybe that’s his fault but-

“I made a mistake, okay?” he admits, guilt ripping through him as he finally lifts his head to look at his brother. “I’m _sorry._ Is that what you want me to say? I’m sorry?” His breathing grows ragged as he pushes himself up to his feet, Hyojong standing again too. “If you want me to apologise, then _fine,_ I’m sorry, I am, but we both know that you make mistakes too-”

“But I’m not the one with a fucking halo above my head!”

Hurt flashes across Changgu’s face at that, Hyojong’s words stinging, sharp, burning into him, and as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he’s right. Changgu has a role to play, a duty to carry out, a responsibility. He wears that halo for a reason, because he worked for it, because he earned it, but now he’s thinking that maybe he doesn’t deserve it after all.

Because he made a mistake. He made _so_ many mistakes. And he can’t take them back now.

“I made a mistake, Hyojong,” Changgu says again, but they both know he’s not talking about the mission anymore. “I left him. I didn’t know what else to do, I just-” His body falls forward to latch onto Hyojong in a hug, his voice muffled against his shoulder. “I just left him here. All alone. _Hongseok._ My Hongseok.”

Then Changgu cries, a broken sob leaving his lips, hot tears slipping out of the corners of his eyes, seeping through Hyojong’s shirt. He stands there, clinging onto Hyojong, and he just cries. He cries and cries and cries.

Hyojong has never seen an angel cry before.

—

Hyojong heads back to the apartment after Changgu makes him promise not to tell Hongseok who he really is, even though Hyojong had said that maybe he’d be happy to know that he wasn’t alone, that he did have someone in his life after all.

“And how happy will he be to know that I left him stranded here?” Changgu had shot back, and well, Hyojong had nothing to say to that.

So he swears not to tell Hongseok, keeping his mouth shut about it when he passes his friend on the way back, asking instead, “Everything okay over there?”

“Yeah, your boyfriend’s fine,” Hongseok answers, just because he knows it pisses Hyojong off. Then, on a more serious note, “He hasn’t been sleeping too well though. Keeps tossing and turning. I don’t know what’s up with that. I didn’t really wanna go in and see.”

Hyojong nods in acknowledgement, running a tired hand through his hair before he clasps it onto Hongseok’s shoulder, patting him just once. “I’ll go take a look,” he says. “Thanks, man.” Before he goes, he offers an apologetic smile. “And hey, uh, sorry we kinda kicked you out just now. It was just- Angel stuff, you know?”

The ghost waves him off, no resentment in his tone when he says, “Nah, it’s fine. I get it.” He tries to smile too, but it comes off a little tight. “It’s not like I’m not used to being alone, right?”

That feels like a stab in Hyojong’s chest, and he falters for a moment, his hold on Hongseok’s shoulder going slack, enough for him to step away.

“You should go check on Hwitaek,” he says then, before Hyojong can speak, and he can’t find it in him to do anything but just stand there as his friend walks away, his feet frozen on the pavement, unmoving until Hongseok is nothing but a faded dot in the distance.

And _fuck._ Hyojong wants to just tell him, wants him to know that he’s not alone, that he was never alone, but he made a promise to his brother, and no matter how much Hongseok means to him now, Changgu comes first. So he keeps it in, locks it away, and all he can do is hope that one day, Changgu finds the courage to tell him himself. He really hopes he does.

Hyojong is silent as he sneaks back into the apartment, his footsteps quiet against the wooden floor as he makes his way towards Hwitaek’s room, gently pushing the door open, just enough for him to slip between the crack.

He stands over the bed as he watches Hwitaek sleep, or rather, try to sleep. Like Hongseok had said, he seems restless, his body twisting endlessly, legs kicking out every now and then. His hair is sweaty, matted to his forehead, falling into his eyes, and Hyojong wants nothing more than to just reach out and brush it aside, to hold his face in his hands, to bring him ease and let him rest.

After they’d kissed the other day, Hyojong had wondered whether things between them would become awkward, uncomfortable, because it’s not everyday that you decide to just kiss someone that you hardly know for the sake of learning how. But Hwitaek had acted completely normal after that, no hint of regret, and the only thing he had said to Hyojong about it was, “Thanks for that. I think I get it now.” And that was that.

He’s grateful, to say the least, because if things had gotten weird between them, it would’ve made everything a lot harder, and Hyojong’s tired of ruining things for himself. Because that’s all it is, isn’t it? Everything he’s done, everything he’s doing, it all comes back to him and this job and really, the only one who’s making it difficult is himself. If he hadn’t been so careless, so distracted, he might’ve been able to get this assignment done a long time ago, but _no._ He had to go fall for some human, his own target, fooled himself into thinking that it could ever happen, that things could ever work in his favour. He had gotten too close, too caught up, and now he’s stuck, and he has no idea how to get himself out of it.

It was just another job, it should’ve been just another job, but then Hyojong looks at Hwitaek, at how beautiful he is even when he’s just lying there, at those pretty lips that had kissed him, the same lips that could stretch into his golden smile, the smile that had struck Hyojong on that first day, like a Cupid’s arrow as though _he_ was the one who needed to find love. Hyojong looks at him, and he knows that it’s more than just a job. He’s more than just a job.

And Hyojong doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do about that.

Hwitaek turns again, sounding breathless, and it’s only then that Hyojong notices he’s talking in his sleep, voice strained, almost like he’s trying to cry out for help but no one can hear him. And Hyojong isn’t sure what to do, isn’t sure whether he should wake him up or just leave him be, but it hurts to look at him like that, like he’s suffering and maybe he should just-

He wakes on his own, jolting up with a gasp so loud that even Hyojong is startled, stumbling back from where he was standing and-

“What the-” Hwitaek almost shrieks, reaching for the table lamp as if he’s about to hit Hyojong with it, his panic clear in his eyes even in the dark room.

Hyojong holds his palms up in surrender, shielding his face, quickly saying, “No, it’s just me! It’s Hyojong!” And he supposes he can’t blame the guy for freaking out, he would have done the same if he woke up to see someone looming over him in the middle of the night, gigantic wings and all.

He drops the lamp back onto the table with a clatter, letting out a huff, hand coming to press against the middle of his chest as though he’s trying to calm his heart.

“Oh, Hyojong, you scared me,” he says, falling back against his pillows. “Don’t do that again, okay?”

Hyojong bares his teeth at him. “Sorry, I just- It sounded like you were having a bad dream or something, so…”

He pushes a hand through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles and Hyojong’s hand is itching to just smoothen it out.

“Sorry about that,” Hwitaek says, his voice still groggy with sleep. “I have a bad habit of getting nightmares when I’m nervous. It’s just…” He shakes his head, fakes a smile. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

That pulls a frown out of Hyojong, kneeling down next to the bed to nudge his side. “Hey, come on now. What’s going on?”

Hwitaek chews at his lower lip, bringing his knees up to hug them to his chest, and right then, he looks so small, so fragile, like a scared child, and Hyojong feels this overwhelming urge to just wrap him in a hug and keep him safe from whatever it is that’s troubling him.

“The evaluation is tomorrow night,” he says then, his voice coming out hushed in the quiet of the room. Realising that it’s already the middle of the morning, he corrects himself, “Or, well, _tonight,_ technically. That’s too soon. I don’t know if I’m ready for it.”

“Not ready to sing?” Hyojong asks. “Or not ready to sing to Jinho?”

Hwitaek puffs out his cheeks. “Both?”

That makes Hyojong laugh, just a gentle chuckle, and his hand comes up to grab onto Hwitaek’s knee, rubbing it in comfort, not even thinking about it, like it was just an instinct now, a reflex.

“Look, if you’re worried about not singing well, don’t be,” Hyojong tells him honestly, a thin smile already playing on his lips. “You’ve got the best voice I’ve ever heard in my entire existence.”

“You mean that?” he asks, looking at him through his eyelashes, head tilting up.

Hyojong nods. “I mean it.” Then, mouth stretching into a cheekier grin, eyebrows raising, he adds, “I’ve heard actual angels sing, okay? I’ve got good taste.”

That finally makes Hwitaek break out into a smile of his own, a real one this time, and his hand finds Hyojong’s, resting over it. “Thanks, Hyojongie,” he says, sniffling just a bit. “You’re the best, you know that?”

He laughs again, though it sounds more uncertain now, trying his best to keep his cool. “Yeah, I know I am,” he shoots back, hoping it comes off as casual as he wants it to.

“No, I’m serious,” Hwitaek insists, pressing onto his hand even more, leaning closer. “You’re the best and I- I’m glad I have you.”

Hyojong won’t lie, that made his heart do a stupid little flip, even though he knows that Hwitaek didn’t mean it like that, didn’t mean it the way he wants him to. He just means that he’s glad to have Hyojong as his Cupid, someone who actually knows what he’s doing, knows how to support him, not one of those useless rookies who just end up ruining their target’s love lives for good. That’s all it is.

But still, it’s enough to make him stay, to make him turn his hand so that he’s holding onto Hwitaek’s properly as the guy settles back into bed, his mouth stretching in a yawn, eyelids already growing heavy.

It’s enough to make him brush his hair away just like he wanted to, to let his hand linger on his cheek, to ghost his thumb over his lips, like a reminder that everything he wants is right there in front of him, so close, but so far. So far, but it’s still enough.

And it’s enough to make him say, “Go back to sleep, Hwitaek. I’ll be right here. I’ll make sure you don’t have anymore nightmares.”

Hwitaek yawns again, mumbling out, “Promise?”

“I promise,” Hyojong says to him, leaning down to press his cheek against their joined hands, part of him afraid that Hwitaek will pull away from him.

But Hwitaek just grips onto him tighter, pushing his fingers through Hyojong’s, finally letting his eyes fall shut like he trusts that Hyojong will keep him safe. Hwitaek holds onto him like he wants him just as much as he does, like maybe he’s not so far away after all, like maybe, just maybe, Hyojong can get to him.

Again, Hwitaek says, “I’m really glad I have you, Hyojong,” and it’s more than enough to make him forget that this is just another job.

—

“Hey, Hyojong?”

“Yeah?”

“If tonight works out, if they do get together and your job is done here… What happens then?”

It’s unspoken, but they both know what he really means by it. _What happens to us?_ _What happens to me?_

Changgu’s words echo in the back of his mind, almost like they’re taunting him, guilting him. _I left him. I just left him here._ And it makes Hyojong wonder if he’ll do the same. It makes him wonder if he could do it any differently.

“I don’t know, Hongseok,” he says, because he really doesn’t. “I just don’t know.”

—

The duet evaluation is held in this little auditorium at the university, but it’s only open to the students who are actually involved, so Hyojong has to keep himself invisible as he and Hongseok slip backstage, only stepping into his human skin once he’s found a spot behind the curtains where no one except Hwitaek will see him.

“You’ll be there, right?” Hwitaek had asked him before he left to get ready, sweaty hands clinging onto Hyojong’s, his breathing shallow, quick, those nerves coming over him again.

“I’ll be there,” Hyojong had assured him, squeezing his hands tightly, offering a hopeful smile.

So there he is, hidden by the heavy curtains, Hongseok by his side, and they wait for Hwitaek’s turn to come, perking up when they see him and Jinho step onto the stage from the other end, bowing to their panel before they take their places opposite each other.

Hwitaek catches his eye for the briefest moment, relief skirting across his features when he sees that Hyojong is there, like he said he would be, managing a shaky smile.

“You got this,” Hyojong mouths to him, and he gives a slight nod in return before he faces forward, introducing himself, Jinho doing the same.

“Um, I’ve prepared a song for us tonight,” he begins, a small quiver in his voice that slowly fades with every word that he speaks, like he’s settling into himself, gaining the confidence that the stage brings to him. “I wrote it myself, it means a lot to me, so yeah. This is ‘Thank You’.”

Hyojong hasn’t heard it, Hwitaek had refused to let him listen to it while he’d practiced, saying that he wanted to save it for tonight, to make it special. So he pushes everything else aside once the music starts, the gentle melody of the piano unmistakably Hwitaek’s playing, focusing on him and only him.

Hwitaek sings first, his voice as soft as the music, and just one word already has Hyojong slipping into a daze, feeling dizzy, fingers reaching out to grip onto the curtains for support.

 _I waited a long time to go where you are,_  
_In order to run to you,_  
_In my heart, it’s only you._

_I promise you, baby,  
I’ll go where you are._

The song is beautiful, as expected of him, but it’s only when the chorus hits that Hyojong starts to feel it, this ache in the hollow of his chest, Hwitaek’s voice piercing his ears, pulling him out of his trance. It forces Hyojong to look at him when he sings, like he’s singing to him, like this song is for him.

 _I give you my love,_  
_I give you my all,_  
_Feels like time has stopped on this night I long for you,_  
_I give you my life,_  
_I give you my all._

Hyojong looks at Hwitaek, but Hwitaek isn’t looking at him, not at all. He’s looking at Jinho and only Jinho, singing the words to him, words that he’d written for him. Just for him.

And when Jinho sings, looking back at Hwitaek the same way that he’s looking at him, love in his eyes, in his voice, in this song, _their_ song, Hyojong has to remind himself that it’s for Hwitaek, for Jinho, for them, not for him. It was never for him.

Then that ache grows, going up, up, up, and he feels something wet, hot, and-

“Hyojong? A-Are you crying?”

Hyojong’s hand flies up to wipe away the tears that had betrayed him, turning his face away in shame before Hongseok can take a closer look, and he tries not to sound choked up when he says, “ _No,_ angels don’t cry.”

Because they don’t. They’re not supposed to. He knows that. But he’d seen Changgu cry, he’d just felt himself cry, still feels the tears burning in his eyes, and he’s not so sure what he knows anymore.

He looks back up at Hwitaek and Jinho before Hongseok can say anything else about it, watching as they continue to sing to each other, Hwitaek pouring out his love to him, Jinho doing the same in return. And right then, Hwitaek seems so far from him, so, so far. He’s only a few steps away, but he’s still so far, and the only one who’s close enough to reach him is Jinho. Not Hyojong. Never Hyojong.

But then for a moment, just a moment, Hwitaek’s gaze flickers over to Hyojong, finally looking at him.

_You’ll be there, right?_

_I’ll be there._

Hwitaek finally looks at him and only him, and he sings, “ _Thank you for being here._ ”

—

Hwitaek finds Hyojong as soon as he leaves the stage, his face a mix of exhilaration and anxiety, like half of him is relieved that he’d gotten through the performance without embarrassing himself and the other half is worried about how he’ll handle the next part, as in the part where he actually tells Jinho that he’d meant all the words that he sang to him.

“How was it?” Hwitaek asks, practically bouncing on his heels as he approaches Hyojong. “Did I do okay?”

“You were amazing,” Hyojong tells him, and he means it. “That was a really good song.”

Hwitaek beams at the compliment, accepting it with a polite thank you before he bursts into an excited squeal, half-whispering, half-shouting, “And did you see the way Jinho looked at me? You saw it, right? I didn’t imagine it, did I?”

Hyojong’s face pulls taut when he smiles at him, nodding his head stiffly. “I saw it,” he mutters, a pang of bitterness on his tongue, swallowing it thickly before it gets the best of him. “I told you, you have nothing to worry about. You’ll get him for sure.”

That seems to give Hwitaek an extra boost of confidence, his shoulders squaring up, smile broadening and he says, “I’m gonna go tell him now.”

All Hyojong can do is say, “Okay.”

He has to switch back into his angel form, has to hide himself again, because he’s not supposed to be here, because Hwitaek probably wants this moment to be just him and Jinho, but before he does, Hyojong catches his sleeve, tugging him to a stop.

“Hey, uh, before you go,” Hyojong starts, unsure what he really wants to say, because he still has so much that he wants to tell him, but he’s running out of time, out of words. Because this is probably the last time that he’ll speak to him. “I just wanted to say that, um, it’s been really nice knowing you.”

Hwitaek gives him a funny look at that. “What are you talking about?”

And Hyojong is surprised that he hasn’t figured it out, that he didn’t put the pieces together yet. He thought that bringing up Hyunggu the other day would make him realise that he won’t have any memory of Hyojong after tonight, but he supposes he can’t blame him, because they never really got a chance to talk about it, he never asked, and maybe it’s better that he doesn’t know. After all, he’s just going to forget Hyojong anyway.

“Nothing,” Hyojong says then, shaking it off. He jerks his head over to where he spots Jinho. “You should probably go talk to him now.”

Hwitaek lingers there for a moment, searching Hyojong’s eyes for an answer, but he can’t seem to find one, so he just says, “Yeah, I should,” and he pulls away from Hyojong’s hold, giving him one last smile before he turns his back to him.

Hyojong feels himself fade, his human skin stripping away from him as Hwitaek makes his way over to Jinho, his eyes never leaving him. He doesn’t have to look to know that Hongseok is standing right by him, just like he always is, and he wonders how much longer this will last.

The air is heavy then, like they’re all holding their breaths, like they’re caught between what happens now and what happens next, just waiting for something to happen.

Hwitaek walks right up to Jinho, tells him, “Hyung, I have something to confess to you.”

Jinho smiles at him, asks him, “What is it?”

“That song was for you,” he admits, tips of his ears turning crimson, voice growing shy. “I wrote it for you and I… I meant it, all of it. I want you, hyung.”

Jinho blinks. Once. Twice. “What are you saying?”

Hwitaek doesn’t bother answering him, doesn’t waste any more time. He just goes straight into it, hands capturing Jinho’s face, lips pressing against his, kissing him the way he kissed Hyojong, everything that he had put into that song flowing out of him now, rolling off of him in waves that even Hyojong can feel from afar. And this is it, it’s happened, it’s done, it’s over. The match is made. His job is settled.

But then something happens. Something really happens.

Jinho puts his hands on Hwitaek’s chest, pushes him off, stares at him like he’s completely lost his mind and-

“H-Hyung?”

“What was that for?” Jinho asks, backing away from him, hand coming up to his mouth like he can’t believe that he’d just kissed him. “Why- Why would you-”

Hwitaek’s voice shakes, mouth goes dry. “I was just- I- I thought- _You._ You looked at me like-” He sucks in a sharp breath, blows it out, the sound of it broken, pained. “Don’t you want me too?”

The moment Jinho’s head begins to shake, Hwitaek’s already got tears brimming his eyes, his lips trembling as he pleads, “No, please don’t do this to me-”

“Hwitaek…” Jinho reaches out for his shoulder, looking guilty, pitiful almost. “We were just singing. It was just singing.” He drops his hand. “I’m sorry.”

Then he goes, leaving Hwitaek behind, and as soon as he’s gone, Hwitaek can’t hold it back anymore, the tears bursting out of him, a sob wracking his entire frame and Hyojong goes still, numb, still caught in that in-between, still holding his breath because something happened. Something happened, but it wasn’t supposed to happen like that. Hyojong isn’t supposed to be here anymore, Jinho isn’t supposed to be gone, Hwitaek isn’t supposed to be fucking crying.

Humans cry, Hyojong knows that, he’s seen it too many times, seen Hwitaek himself cry, but he shouldn’t be crying now. He shouldn’t, but he cries and cries and cries, and Hyojong doesn’t know how to make it stop.

He doesn’t know anything at all.

—

Hwitaek doesn’t leave his room after that, keeping himself locked up in there, not even coming out to eat and every single time Hongseok checks in on him, he just tells Hyojong that he’s still hidden under the covers, that he’s still crying his eyes out.

Hyojong could easily just break the lock or take the door down, could even bring the entire building to dust if he wanted, but he doesn’t. He just sits there, his back against the door, calling out for Hwitaek, apologising to him, again and again, until his own voice goes raw.

At one point, he even finds himself going after Jinho, to give him a piece of his mind, to tell him how fucking stupid he was to turn down the best person in the world, but Hongseok holds him back, literally strains him against his body until he runs out of energy, until he’s too weak to fight back.

“It’s not his fault,” he tries to tell Hyojong, over and over, drilling it into him. “The match was wrong. It’s not his fault.”

And Hyojong hates that he’s right, hates that no matter how angry he is, Jinho isn’t the one to blame. The only one to blame is himself. He should’ve seen it, should’ve seen that the sparks between the two weren’t real, not entirely. But he’d been foolish, let himself believe whatever Hwitaek had seen, whatever he wanted to believe, just to make him happy. And now Hwitaek’s the one who’s suffering, the one who’s hurt. All because Hyojong didn’t do his job right.

“There was no way you could’ve known, Hyojong,” Hongseok says when he sees the angel wallowing in self-pity again, trying to cheer him up because having one crying mess is more than enough, they don’t need two of them. “You said it yourself, these things aren’t always right.”

Hyojong doesn’t say it, but he’s grateful that he still has Hongseok, that Hongseok still has his back. And Hongseok doesn’t say it either, but Hyojong can tell that a part of him is relieved that it didn’t work out between Hwitaek and Jinho, that this mission isn’t over just yet, that Hyojong still hasn’t left him.

And that’s the thing. The job isn’t over, Hwitaek still hasn’t found his love, Hyojong is still here, so they have to keep going. They need to keep going.

So once Hyojong is done feeling sorry for himself, once Hongseok convinces him that he’s still got this, he slams Hwitaek’s door open, yanks the covers off of him, tells him, “Get up.”

“No-”

“I said, get the fuck up, Hwitaek.”

The sudden harshness makes him lift his head, looking at Hyojong, and his eyes are bloodshot from all the crying, heavy bags under them from the obvious lack of sleep, his lips cracked and his skin pale. He looks terrible, and yet, Hyojong feels that rush in him that he’d felt before, that want, that need, to protect him, to make him happy again. He’ll make him happy again. Whatever it takes.

“I came here to help you, didn’t I? I want to help you, but I can’t do that if you’re just going to shut yourself away like this.” Hyojong runs a tongue over his lip, huffing out a tired sigh. “It’s been a week, Hwitaek. You’re missing your classes, your work. Hyunggu keeps calling me to ask where you’ve been. I can’t- I can’t help you if you’re not going to help yourself.”

Hwitaek tries to look away, but Hyojong is quick, hand coming up to his cheek, keeping their gazes locked until Hwitaek caves in. “What’s the point?” he grumbles under his breath, his teeth gritted, eyes cast to the ground. “Jinho doesn’t want me-”

“Who cares about him?” Hyojong scoffs. “You don’t need him, okay? He was the wrong one. You shouldn’t waste your time on him anymore.”

“But-”

“No buts!” Hyojong stands upright, grabbing onto Hwitaek’s arms to pull him up with him, the guy’s body feeling like it’s filled with lead but he does it anyway, getting him to his feet. “We talked about this, didn’t we? Sometimes the matches are wrong. And what happens when they’re wrong?”

Hwitaek’s mouth is pressed into a thin line, eyes rolling back, like he isn’t even listening, like he’s already given up, but Hyojong yanks on his arms, a little harder than he needs to, asking again, “What do we do when they’re wrong, Hwitaek?”

“We find a new match,” he answers without thinking. Then, as if it just hit him, his face lights up, lips curving into a smile for the first time since that night, hope pooling in his eyes. And for once, he looks like he’s happy again, like he could be happy again.

“That’s right,” Hyojong says. “We’re going to find a new match.”

And for the first time in a long time, Hyojong finally feels like he knows what he’s doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah.. ta da ! did you really think it would just end with hui/jinho... kekeke i wonder who's the next match !
> 
> feel free to yell at me lol [twitter](https://twitter.com/ao3kino), [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/ao3kino) <3


	6. “so, no match?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hewwo i'm back with another chapter i think it's the longest one so far and its kinda... choppy like there are a lot of small parts that kinda just jump to one another idk i hope it's okay and i know a lot of you are curious who the next match is so here you go i hope you enjoy <3

Finding a new match for Hwitaek is a lot easier said than done, especially since he’s decided to just let Hyojong do the picking, claiming that he doesn’t trust himself to find someone suitable for him after the disaster that was Jinho. Really though, Hyojong thinks he’s still just way too hung up on the guy to actually try to give anyone else a chance.

But he doesn’t want to confront Hwitaek about it in fear that it’ll drive him to isolation again, so he just sucks it up and does his job. And it’s a little hard to do that when he has no idea what Hwitaek’s type is, what he likes and what he doesn’t, whether he’s only into guys or whether he’d be up for dating that gorgeous girl in his music theory class that everyone seems to be head over heels for. Red hair, bright eyes, pretty smile.

In another universe, Hyojong might even like her too.

Hyunah is her name, Hyojong finds out after a little digging courtesy of Hongseok, and when he casually brings her up in one of their conversations, for the first time since the whole Jinho fiasco, Hwitaek seems to show a hint of interest, eyebrows shooting up.

“Hyunah?” He sits upright, wondering why Hyojong’s asking about her all of a sudden. “What about her?”

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” Hyojong keeps his tone light, not wanting to come off like he’s pressuring him into anything. “Really sweet too.”

Hwitaek agrees with a nod, still not quite sure where he’s going with this. “Yeah, she is really great. Why?”

“Nothing, just, I don’t know…” Hyojong shrugs a shoulder. “Do you like her?”

“Of course I like her,” he answers easily, the words just rolling off of his tongue like it was no big deal. Then before Hyojong can push it further, he says, “Everyone likes her. What’s not to like?”

Hyojong’s mouth presses into a thin line, breathing in deep to keep his frustration at bay. “No, I meant like, would you ever like her the way you liked Jinho?”

“Ah…” It seems to only hit Hwitaek right then, what this is all about, and it makes him shift in his seat uncomfortably, his hand coming up to scratch behind his ear. “Well, no, I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Hyojong asks, curious, head tilting. “Is it because she’s a girl?”

“No, I like girls,” Hwitaek tells him honestly. “And I like guys too. It’s not about that, it’s just- Me and Hyunah, we’re like siblings. She treats me like I’m her baby brother or something, even though she’s only a year older.” A fond smile finds its way onto his face when he adds, “Plus, I’m pretty sure she’s already seeing someone. She won’t admit it, but she’s been going out on these little dates with one of our juniors, Somin. I think she’s in your dance class actually.”

Hyojong vaguely remembers the name, Hyunggu must’ve introduced them at some point and he nods in understanding, blowing out a defeated sigh. “So, no match?”

Hwitaek offers an apologetic look, head shaking. “No match.”

And they’re back to square one.

—

Days go by, and Hyojong’s still stuck in square one, still unable to find anyone who isn’t already taken, or is actually in Hwitaek’s league, or isn’t a total creep. He’d feel terrible if he set the guy up with someone weird. And at this point, he’s genuinely considering just matching Hwitaek up with one of those library ladies he loves helping out so much.

“Gross, they’re, like, a hundred years old,” Hongseok says when Hyojong voices his plan out loud, his nose scrunching up at the thought of those old women giving Hwitaek slobbery kisses.

Hyojong rolls his eyes at the exaggeration. “ _Please,_ they’re sixty, at most.” He digs his elbow into Hongseok’s ribs. “And you’re one to talk. You’re literally a ghost. Even your hair is greyer than theirs.”

“Hey!” Hongseok instinctively reaches for his hair, ruffling it lightly. Then, as if realising something, he frowns. “You know, I don’t even remember dyeing my hair grey.”

“No?”

“No… And it’s weird because dye jobs, piercings, tattoos, everyone was getting them once we got into college but… they were never really my thing,” he answers slowly, confusion beginning to cloud his face, like it’s only just occurred to him. “Plus, I can’t remember if I had it before, or if it was only like this after I died, I just… I can’t remember anything.”

 _That’s odd,_ Hyojong thinks. As far as he knows, angels only removed memories of themselves and their presence in their target’s lives. They never tampered with any other memory, they weren’t allowed to, so it can’t have been Changgu’s doing. And like he’d told Hongseok before, Hyojong isn’t exactly sure how the whole afterlife thing works, but he doubts that death would make him lose random pieces of his memory like that. Yeah, he’s heard of people who lose certain memories, traumatic ones, as a way to protect themselves, but surely that wouldn’t be the case with something as trivial as a dye job. It just made no sense.

“Maybe it just happens when you become a ghost,” Hyojong suggests then. Neither of them have ever met any other ghost to test that theory, but it seems like the most likely option here.

“Maybe,” Hongseok echoes, but he doesn’t look all too convinced.

Before he can dwell on it any longer, Hyojong nudges him again, giving him a dumb look, wagging a finger at him. “Either way, you’re still a ghost, so don’t go around slandering those sweet old ladies, you hear me?”

Hongseok sticks his tongue out at that, shooting back a matter-of-factly, “ _Technically,_ I’m still only twenty-two, and I’ll stay twenty-two forever.”

His words make Hyojong falter, the stupid grin on his face slipping, switching into something more sombre. “That young?”

“I was gonna turn twenty-three but…” Hongseok gives him the briefest smile, a sudden sadness in his eyes. “I never made it to my birthday that year.”

Hyojong feels this dull pang in his chest right then, because although he makes it his mission to squeeze in as many ghost jokes as he can into every single conversation they have, he and Hongseok have never really talked about his death, never really wanting to get into it. But there’s a tug of curiosity in him now, the words escaping his lips before he can help it.

“How did you die?” is what he asks, and as soon as he hears it, he claps a hand over his mouth, silently cursing himself for being so rude. “I- I mean, how did you… _pass?_ ”

Hongseok doesn’t look upset, angry, he just seems a bit numb, like he’d been waiting for Hyojong to ask, like he just wanted to get it over with and tell him so that they’d never have to speak about it again.

And Hyojong expects him to launch into a whole life story leading up to what happened, to go on and on and on like the blabbermouth he always is, but all Hongseok says is, “I got sick.”

“Sick? What kind-”

“Just sick, okay?” he presses, voice tight, then he’s gone, letting himself turn to dust before Hyojong can ask anything else, the angel left standing there with his mouth hanging open, and _man._

What is up with him?

—

“How did Hongseok die?”

Hyojong knows he should leave it alone, let it rest, especially since it’s obvious that Hongseok doesn’t want to talk about it, but he can be awfully stubborn when he wants to be, so when Changgu decides to drop in again, he decides to ask him about it instead.

“He got sick,” is Changgu’s answer, and _jeez,_ did they plan this or something? Hyojong’s about to say something about it, but then Changgu continues, his voice sounding distant, empty.

“It wasn’t like it happened all at once, no sudden heart attack or anything like that. It was the little things; a cold here and there, a bad cough that wouldn’t go away, a fever that he just couldn’t seem to break. And he had these terrible headaches that kept him up at night, those were the worst. He already knew me by then, he thought I worked at one of those bakeries in town. He always liked the tarts they sold on Wednesdays.” There’s a ghost of a smile on his face then as he recalls it, but it’s gone again almost instantly. “I knew that he was sick, he knew that I knew, but he kept pushing it away, kept insisting it was nothing. I did what I could, offered him medicine, made sure he always stayed warm, took away the pain from his headaches enough to let him sleep through the night once in a while. But…”

Changgu blinks back the wetness in his eyes, clearing his throat. “It got worse, so much worse, and by the time I’d convinced him to go to the doctor, the virus had already taken over and it wasn’t long before he just… _went._ ”

It takes a moment or two to process it, Hyojong just sitting there with his head in his hands, trying to picture Hongseok, this loudmouth, jokester friend of his that’s always so full of life, as someone who had let an illness kill him, had let it quite literally drain the life from him.

“Why didn’t he just get help?” Hyojong asks, unable to grasp the idea that he’d died simply because he refused to accept the fact that he was sick, refused to get himself treated.

Changgu gives him a weak shrug in return, saying, “I don’t know. I never had the chance to ask.”

“Well, you can ask him now, right?” Hyojong chirps, hopeful, but Changgu just heaves a sigh, shaking his head at him.

“I told you, I’m not going to tell him,” he says, sounding exhausted, like he doesn’t have the strength to fight Hyojong on this anymore. “I can’t do that to him. I can’t burden him with this when I know that I’ll just leave him again, that you’ll leave him too.”

That’s like a slap in the face to Hyojong, a cruel reminder that no matter what happens here, it all ends the same. He’s going to leave, leave everything and everyone, leave it all behind, like he hadn’t even been here, like none of this even happened. And Hyojong supposes it’s better if he doesn’t remember, if he doesn’t know the truth. Because even if Changgu tells him, even if he tells him every single thing that happened between them, right down to the last detail, he’ll only know what he’s told. There’s no way for him to actually remember any of it, his memories already erased, already gone, only Changgu’s version of the story left now.

“You’re right,” Hyojong says eventually, sighing as well. “You’ll just be dumping your sob story on him. It’s not like he’ll actually remember anything from his side anyway, right?”

Changgu seems to go still at that, as though he was caught red handed, and Hyojong’s eyes narrow at him suspiciously.

“Right, Changgu?” he asks again, eyebrow curving up, and the younger immediately snaps out of it.

“ _Right,_ ” he answers quickly, too quickly, suddenly flustered, getting to his feet so fast that he almost stumbles. “Yes. Right. He won’t. Of course not. How could he?” He forces an awkward laugh. “Okay, I’m gonna go now, Hyojongie.”

“Wait-”

“Bye!” Changgu calls out before Hyojong can say anything, flashing white before he disappears to who knows where, and _huh._

What is up with _him?_

—

“What about that one?”

“No, too old.”

“How about the one over there?”

“He called me a loser once.”

“Okay, loser, what about her then?”

“That’s Somin, dummy, the one who’s going out with Hyunah.”

Hyojong lets out a groan, smacking his palms to his face, his patience quite obviously wearing thin and they’ve only been here for twenty minutes. He had dragged Hwitaek out to lunch for the sole purpose of scouting out a new match, because him blindly picking and choosing random people based on a vague idea of what kind of person Hwitaek would be into wasn’t helping him make any progress at all. Plus, neither Hongseok nor Changgu seem to want to help him, the both of them avoiding-but-not-avoiding him ever since his conversations with them. Remind him to never ask about someone’s death ever again.

Really, the only person who can help him, the person who should be helping himself, is Hwitaek. So there they are, right smack in the middle of the university cafeteria at peak lunch hour, where his potential matches should be. And with this many people around, the chances of finding at least one person to set him up with is pretty high.

Or at least, it _would_ be, if Hwitaek didn’t shoot down literally every fucking person that Hyojong points out to him.

“Look, I know what this is, okay?” Hyojong starts, sounding a little fed up, but really, he has a right to be. “I get it. You’re still not over Jinho, right? And yeah, that’s understandable, you really liked him, loved him even. Supposedly. Probably not. I don’t think you did, but that’s just my opinion, and who am I to say that- _Anyway._ My point is, I know you think that there’s no way you can just move on to someone new, but trust me, I’ve been through this a hundred times, with hundreds of people, and it’s always the same. Once you give yourself a chance, open yourself up to someone new, you’ll actually find that-”

Hyojong stops speaking when he realises that Hwitaek’s just staring at him blankly, a glassy-eyed look across his face, not even blinking and-

“ _Hwitaek._ Were you even listening to me?”

Hwitaek ignores him, still caught in a trance, his finger reaching out for Hyojong’s cheek like he has no control of it, sounding dazed when he says, “Did you know that you have the tiniest freckles right here-”

Hyojong jerks away just before Hwitaek can touch him, his chair making a loud screech against the floor, and he hisses, “What are you doing? We’re in public! You’ll make my wings come out!”

That seems to yank Hwitaek back to reality, the boy immediately pulling his hand back to his side, heat flaring up his neck as he realises what he’d almost done. “I- I’m sorry, I forgot. I was just-” He shakes it off, blinks his eyes. “ _Sorry._ What were you saying?”

“It’s fine,” Hyojong mutters, shuffling forward again, slumping against the table tiredly. “I was just saying, I know you’re still not over Jinho but-”

“Jinho?” Hwitaek almost scoffs his name like it’s a curse, a stark contrast to how he used to speak of him like he was God’s greatest creation. “What are you talking about? Of course I’m over him.”

Hyojong looks at him, skeptical, forehead creasing. “Really?”

“ _Hyojong,_ did you forget? Jinho ripped my heart straight from my chest, tore it into a million pieces-”

“It really wasn’t that bad.”

“-stomped all over it, and threw it back in my face like it was nothing.” He breathes in deep, sharp, lets it out. “I’m over him. Really.”

Hyojong wants to believe him, he does, especially with that rather dramatic analogy of how Jinho had broken his heart, but…

“Then why have you been turning down everyone I try to match you up with?” he asks, genuinely wondering what else could be stopping him from moving on. “I mean, what, did you already find someone else that you like?”

Hwitaek blinks. “What?” Then- “ _No._ What? Me? Someone else? No. That’s just- Who would I even-” He stands, his chair almost falling over as he does, his face growing red again as he sputters out his words. “Actually, I, uh, I need to go to the library now.”

“The library is closed today-”

“The other library!” Hwitaek says, even though they both know for a fact that there’s only one library, and he flashes something between a grin and a grimace before he runs off, and _fucking hell._

What is up with _everyone?_

—

“Hyung, is everything okay?” Hyunggu asks him after class, jogging up to his side and offering him a bottle of water. “You look really tired. Was the routine today too hard?”

It was, a bit more difficult than usual, Hyojong getting stuck on this same move again and again, unable to make it flow while it took Hyunggu about five minutes to get the entire thing down and another five to execute it flawlessly.

In another universe, Hyojong might even be jealous of him for it.

“Yeah, a little, but it’s not that,” he sighs, gulping down half the bottle in one go, muttering a small thanks when he passes it back. “It’s just- You heard about what happened with Hwitaek and Jinho, right?”

Hyunggu sends a nod his way, teeth bared, and he says, “The whole music department has been talking about it.”

Hyojong bites down on his tongue at that before he says something that he shouldn’t, hoping that for Jinho’s sake, he isn’t the one who’s fuelling the fire, because if Hyojong finds out that he’s talking shit about Hwitaek after he’d already rejected him… It won’t be pretty.

He knows he shouldn’t be so defensive over it, knows that he should just let it go, that Jinho has probably let it go by now, that even Hwitaek has let it go apparently. But every time he remembers Hwitaek crying on that night, looking so broken, so _hurt,_ all Hyojong wants is to hurt the people who hurt him. It’s stupid, he knows. Revenge is stupid, jealousy is stupid, hate is stupid. It’s stupid, but it’s human. It’s human, and it makes Hyojong wonder why he feels it so much.

“I’ve been trying to set Hwitaek up with someone new,” Hyojong explains, watching his words so that he doesn’t give himself away. “Just to, you know, help him move on. But he keeps rejecting everyone I suggest to him, and I thought it was because he was still hung up on Jinho, but he said he was definitely over him. So I just-” He exhales, heavy, exhausted. “I’m just tired of trying to help him when he won’t even help himself.”

Hyunggu offers a pitiful look, reaching over to pat his shoulder in comfort, being careful not to touch his skin, only his shirt and Hyojong finds it a bit endearing how he’s so mindful now, no longer the reckless boy he was just a year ago.

“Maybe I can help,” Hyunggu says then, lips quirking into a smile, and really, it’s a nice gesture, but what exactly does he plan to do?

“Unless you’re going to dump Yuto to date Hwitaek, then I don’t think there’s much you can help with, kid,” Hyojong teases, and it pulls a loud laugh out of Hyunggu, his head shaking.

“No, but I do know someone who might be up for dating Hwitaek-hyung,” is what he says and-

“Oh?”

Hyunggu waggles his eyebrows, that smile of his broadening. “There’s this friend of ours, well, technically, he’s Yuto’s friend, but he became my friend too, so we’re all friends- _Anyway,_ so, he’s had this huge crush on Hwitaek-hyung ever since I introduced them at this party we went to, but he never had the guts to do anything about it because Hwitaek was always so into Jinho, y’know? But, I mean, _now-_ Oh, wait.”

“What? Wait- No-” This is perfect, it’s exactly what they’ve been looking for, and Hyojong can’t have Hyunggu disappearing on him too like everyone else. “Don’t go anywhere!”

“I’m not going anywhere, hyung,” Hyunggu almost laughs, and his arm shoots up to wave at someone. “It’s just- He’s right over there.”

Hyojong turns to see who he’s waving at and-

“Wooseokie! Over here!” Hyunggu calls out, his voice carrying over to where his friend is standing, immediately getting his attention and the boy’s face breaks out into a grin before he bounds over to them.

And Hyojong has never seen this Wooseok guy before, he supposes it’s because he’s always just spending time with Hyunggu and not Yuto, and he’s almost taken aback when he gets closer, towering over both of them.

“Wooseok, this is Hyojong-hyung,” Hyunggu says, gesturing to his side. “The one I told you about, remember?”

Wooseok dips in a polite bow, his lanky body making it so that he almost bumps into them when he does.

“Hyunggu talks about you a lot, hyung,” he says once he’s upright again. “He says you’re a really good dancer.” He cups a hand around his mouth, bending down a little, pretending to whisper, “He told me he’s jealous of how good you are.”

That makes Hyojong laugh, and Hyunggu burns red in embarrassment, smacking Wooseok’s arm, making him burst into laughter as he offers a sorry.

“Well, Hyunggu told me about you too,” Hyojong tells him then, and that seems to pique his interest. Hyojong does the same as he did, hand against his mouth, fake-whispering, “He says you have a crush on Hwitaek.”

It’s Wooseok’s turn to blush, the boy immediately going to pinch Hyunggu’s side while the latter just giggles, calling out, “What? It’s true! You like him!”

Wooseok turns back to Hyojong, trying his best not to sound like a complete loser when he says, “Okay, yeah, I _do_ like him but-” His face scrunches up. “He barely even notices me. I’m just that kid in Hyunggu and Yuto’s gang that he sees once in a while. I’m nothing like Jinho-hyung.”

Hyojong feels a little bad when he says that, and well, he’s right, he isn’t like Jinho at all. He’s tall where Jinho was small, his voice is rough where Jinho’s was gentle, he seems like he’s got a little mischief in him, still like a child, still so young, where it was obvious that Jinho was much more mature. Wooseok is everything that Jinho wasn’t, and maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

After all, Jinho was the wrong match, so maybe someone the complete opposite of him would be the right match.

“You should try and ask him out,” Hyojong says, offering a kind smile. “Doesn’t have to be anything huge, maybe just go get a coffee after class or something. He needs someone to cheer him up after what happened, so… Do him a favour and give it a go, huh?”

Wooseok doesn’t look so sure, like he’s afraid Hwitaek will just turn him down, but Hyojong assures him that he won’t, and Hyunggu gives him an encouraging nod too, saying that this is his chance.

He chews on his bottom lip in thought for a moment or two longer, but eventually he lets his mouth pull into a smile and he asks, “What time does his class finish tomorrow?”

And _finally,_ Hyojong thinks to himself. _Square two._

—

Hyojong waits outside Hwitaek’s class, Hyunggu and Wooseok by his side, Hongseok too, though his friend has been silent the entire time, claiming that it’s better for him not to speak when they’re around other people. Really though, Hyojong thinks it’s because he’s still upset that he had brought up his death the other day, which is fair enough, he supposes. If it was him, he probably wouldn’t want to talk about it either. So he doesn’t push Hongseok about it, just grateful that he’s there, at the very least.

He doesn’t pay much attention to what’s happening right then, only vaguely hearing Hyunggu trying to hype Wooseok up as best as he can, Wooseok trying not to kill Hyunggu for talking him into actually doing this. His own thoughts are elsewhere, gaze trained on the door, waiting for his target to come out, and he doesn’t know why he feels so nervous, as though it was him who was about to ask Hwitaek out. Maybe he’s nervous _for_ Hwitaek, worried about how he’ll take Wooseok’s proposal, whether he’ll say yes, whether he’ll just turn him down, whether they’ll have to go back to square one or if they’ll finally move forward.

Maybe, or maybe the nerves eating away at his stomach are for a different reason completely, growing more and more when Hwitaek finally leaves the class, his pretty face immediately catching Hyojong’s eye even among all the other students, like he shone just a bit brighter than everyone else. Maybe he’s nervous because it isn’t just Hyojong’s attention he’s managed to capture, Wooseok immediately shutting up as soon as he sees him, doe eyes blinking wide like he’s starstruck. Maybe he’s nervous because Hwitaek sees Wooseok too, lifting a hand in an easy wave as he heads over to where they are, a smile already pulling his lips open. Maybe he’s nervous because Hwitaek might say yes, because things might work out with him and Wooseok, because he really might be the right match for him. Maybe he’s nervous because Hwitaek might finally move forward, but Hyojong would still be left behind.

“You’re staring,” Hongseok murmurs from behind him, a low snicker to go with it, and if not for the fact that Hyojong is relieved that the silent treatment is over, he would’ve smacked him.

And he’s _not_ staring. Definitely not. Not at all. He was just… _looking._ That’s all.

“Hey guys,” Hwitaek says when he approaches them, a funny expression on his face when he notices all three of them there. “What are you doing here? Were you waiting for me or something?”

“N-”

“Wooseok was,” Hyunggu chirps before Wooseok can speak, then with a little force, he shoves the taller boy towards the elder. “He has something to ask you.”

Wooseok sends a glare over his shoulder before he faces Hwitaek, his face already burning, hands fidgeting in front of him, unsure what to say.

If Hwitaek notices how nervous he seems, he doesn’t say anything about it, only offering a kind smile before he speaks in an even kinder voice, asking, “What is it, Wooseokie?”

“Well, um-” Wooseok’s words seem to get caught in his throat, and the devil on Hyojong’s shoulder – _do angels even have those?_ – is telling him that he should just take the chance to grab Hwitaek and leave, that this is obviously not going to work out if the kid can’t even ask him out in the first place.

But the devil by his side seems to have something else in mind, Hyunggu kicking the back of Wooseok’s leg to get him to speak, and it works because right away, he blurts out, “Do you wanna go get a coffee, hyung?”

 _Huh._ Maybe Hyunggu would make a good Cupid.

Hwitaek seems to be amused by the question, as though wondering why it’d been so hard for him to ask, and he just says, “Sure.” Then he jerks his head at Hyojong and Hyunggu. “Come on, guys, let’s go.”

“Wait, no-” Wooseok grabs Hwitaek’s hand just as he’s about to turn, his grip desperate almost. “No, hyung, I meant, do- do you wanna go get a coffee with… _me?_ ”

“Oh.” Hwitaek opens his mouth to answer, eyes drawn towards their joined hands for a moment before they move back up to Wooseok, and Hyojong can see the words forming on his lips already, can hear his polite decline, his _‘I’d love to, but since everyone’s here, maybe we should all go together’_ because he’s too nice to reject the guy straight up.

Hyojong knows him all too well by now, and when Hwitaek’s gaze flickers over to him for just a second, it’s like he knows that Hyojong knows, so he swallows whatever it is that he wanted to say, and instead, he tells Wooseok, “Yeah, of course, that’d be great.”

Wooseok tries – and fails – to not look so relieved, the boy letting out a loud whoop before he tightens his hold on Hwitaek’s hand, beaming down at him. And they watch as Wooseok leads him away, almost skipping in joy while Hwitaek just trails by his side, sending a quick glance over his shoulder at Hyojong, the look on his face unreadable.

Hyojong can only offer a half-hearted smile.

“Ah, isn’t this nice, hyung?” Hyunggu says then, clapping his hands together, looking quite pleased and Hyojong just nods, that already weak smile of his growing even weaker.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” he coughs out, hoping it doesn’t come out as sour as it tastes in his mouth. “And, uh, thanks, Hyunggu, for helping out and stuff.”

The younger grins at that, waving him off and he says, “No problem. I just want my friends to be happy.”

There’s a voice in the back of Hyojong’s mind right then, selfish, vain, demanding; _What about my happiness?_ But no. These aren’t his friends, this isn’t his world, there’s no place for his happiness here, not with them. And not with Hwitaek either.

—

“How’d the date go?”

Hyojong doesn’t have to ask to know, he’d been there the whole time, sat at an empty table just to their left, watching the entire scenario play out in front of him like he was watching a movie. And it _was_ like a movie, one about an awkward junior trying to impress an uninterested senior, the both of them too kind to say that things weren’t exactly going well. If he’d been in a cinema, Hyojong would’ve walked right out.

It was embarrassing, really, how infatuated Wooseok was with Hwitaek when it was clear that the latter didn’t see him the same way at all, Hwitaek keeping a friendly distance while Wooseok smothered him with unnecessary attention. _Honestly,_ couldn’t he have let go of Hwitaek’s hand for five seconds?

Still, Hyojong had to watch, had to make sure that everything went alright, but he couldn’t help the way his foot tapped impatiently, just waiting for the damn thing to end. He couldn’t help the way his hands fidgeted on the table, itching to smack Wooseok’s prying hands away from Hwitaek. He couldn’t help the way his eyes were stuck on Hwitaek, becoming just as infatuated with him as Wooseok was. He couldn’t help the way he felt those things, those human things; jealousy, love, things he shouldn’t be feeling.

He couldn’t help it, and Hongseok couldn’t understand it.

“You know, I don’t get you, Hyojong,” he had said from where he was sitting beside him, a hum thrumming low in his tone. “You’re the one who insisted that he should find someone new, and now that he has, you’re sitting here like a green-eyed little grinch, looking like you’re about to rip that poor kid’s head off.”

Hyojong hadn’t appreciated his choice of words, because he was most definitely not a grinch and he wasn’t going to rip Wooseok’s head off. Maybe he’d just flick his forehead or something.

“If you know you don’t like seeing him with other people, then why do you do it?”

“Because I have to,” Hyojong had sighed, a bit annoyed by the question because really, shouldn’t Hongseok know by now? “I have a job to do, so I’m doing it. It doesn’t matter what I like or don’t like. It’s not about me.”

Hongseok had just clicked his tongue lazily at that, giving Hyojong a pointed look. “No offence, but you’ve already royally screwed up your job, so why not just give it up?”

That made Hyojong frown, his face scrunching up in confusion. “Weren’t you the one who was telling me just the other day that I should keep going? That I could still do this? What’s with the sudden change of mind, huh?”

“It’s not that-” Hongseok seemed flustered, embarrassed, maybe even guilty, unable to meet Hyojong’s eyes. “I mean, it’s just- If you don’t finish the job, then at least you won’t ever have to leave.”

Hyojong felt his throat close up at that, making him choke on his own silence, on the words that he couldn’t bring himself to say. He wanted to say that Hongseok was being selfish, that he couldn’t expect Hyojong to just give everything up to stay here. But he also wanted to tell him that he did want to stay, with him, with Hwitaek, even Hyunggu and Yuto, that he wanted to be their friend, to be a part of their world.

But he couldn’t. All he could do was do his job. That was all he had to do.

“They’re leaving,” Hyojong had said instead, getting to his feet. “I should head back before Hwitaek gets home.”

And he’d gone, leaving Hongseok behind, his heart heavy, his head growing heavier, knowing that Hwitaek would come home to say that things didn’t work out, that they had to find someone else.

Except when Hyojong asks the question, Hwitaek says, “It was fine.” And he smiles. “We’re going out again tomorrow.”

Hyojong feels his foot tap, his hands fidget, his eyes on Hwitaek except this time they’re burning, stinging and-

“That’s great,” he says, and just like Hwitaek, he smiles. “I’m happy for you.”

And that voice is back, not selfish, not vain, not demanding; just wondering and wondering and wondering.

_What about my happiness?_

—

Hwitaek and Wooseok begin to go out so often that even Hyojong grows tired of following them around, tired of watching that same old movie play again and again, never changing. And he doesn’t understand why Hwitaek keeps going out with him when anyone with eyes can see that he’s only entertaining Wooseok out of courtesy, that the smiles and the laughs and everything he offers to him isn’t actually real.

But Hyojong thinks that maybe it’s just his own mind playing tricks on him, making him see things that aren’t really there, just to make himself feel better, to make himself happy. Because surely if Hwitaek didn’t at the very least like Wooseok a tiny bit, he wouldn’t say yes to every date that he asks him out on, wouldn’t lead him on like this.

He just wouldn’t, so Hyojong decides that it is just him and his mind and his tricks. And he doesn’t trust himself to make any more judgments on his own, so he seeks out Hongseok, asking him to watch over the two and see what he thinks.

And he won’t say it, but there’s a part of him that hopes Hongseok will come back to tell him that he sees what he sees, that there’s even less of a spark between these two than there was between Hwitaek and Jinho, that it’s not just him or his mind or his tricks.

But he can only hope, because Hongseok finds him in the park later that day, collapsing onto the bench next to him and he says, “They seem fine.”

 _Fine, fine, fine, everything’s fucking fine-_ “Just fine?”

“I mean, that Wooseok kid is a bit of a dork, but Hwitaek seems to find him funny so…” Hongseok risks a glance at him, his smile tight. “Sorry, Hyojong.”

He coughs out a laugh that sounds more like a wheeze and his head shakes, shoulders shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Sorry for what? That’s a good thing.”

They both know that Hongseok can see right through him – _funny, considering he’s not the one who’s a ghost around here_ – but he doesn’t bother him about it this time, instead firming up his smile, giving Hyojong something realer, brighter.

“I’m sorry for what I said the other day,” is what Hongseok says, that same twinge of guilt in his tone. “That wasn’t fair to you. I knew what I was getting into when I came along with you. I know that you want to go home.” His face falters, still real, but it’s like the light in his eyes had dimmed, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I want to go home too.”

Hyojong doesn’t think he means the apartment, or this park, or anywhere on Earth at all. He thinks he means he wants to go where he belongs, wherever that may be, to stop being stuck in the middle, in this empty space that’s neither here nor there. He thinks he just wants to go somewhere, anywhere.

In another universe, Hyojong might even take him there himself.

“Will I forget you?” he asks before Hyojong can say anything, brushing off the heaviness that had fallen around them, shuffling around to face him properly.

“I don’t know,” Hyojong answers, and it’s the truth. “We take the memories of anyone who we come in contact with during the mission, so Hwitaek, Jinho, Wooseok, they’ll all forget me. Hyunggu and Yuto will forget me all over again too. But…” He lifts his head, breathing in, out. “I don’t know if you count.”

Hongseok seems to think on it, tugging his lower lip between his teeth. “So Hyunggu, Yuto, they just… don’t remember you from before? At all?”

He shakes his head.

“Not even if you tell them? Like, it won’t spark something in their brains or anything like that?”

Another shake. “Once their memories are taken, that’s it, they’re gone. There’s no way to get them back.” He pauses. “Well, unless-” Hyojong bites back his words. “Never mind.”

Hongseok is quick though, he always is, and he arches an eyebrow. “Unless what? Is there a loophole?”

“I-” Hyojong slumps against the bench, and he regrets saying anything, but he knows that Hongseok won’t leave it alone now that he’s heard it, another heavy breath pulling out of his lungs. “Sort of, yeah, there is one way to keep the memories there but- It’s not exactly _allowed._ It’s considered one of the worst offences an angel could commit, like, you could get banned from Heaven if you were caught doing it.”

That makes Hongseok’s eyes go wide, looking part curious, part afraid. “Is it really that bad? Do you have to, like… _sacrifice someone_ to make it happen?”

“What? _No,_ you idiot,” Hyojong scoffs, sitting upright again just to give him a thump on the back of his head. “All we have to do is give our targets a piece of ourselves-”

“So you sacrifice _yourselves?_ ”

Hyojong’s eyes press shut for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not _literally_ a piece of ourselves, Hongseok, just… I don’t know, something that belongs to us, that means something to us. Something that’s strong enough to keep the memory of us alive inside our targets so that when we want to, when we need to, we can call the memory back.”

He turns to him, gaze sharp. “But I’m telling you, it’s crazy. I haven’t heard of any angel who’s actually managed to pull it off. Either what they give their targets is too weak, or they get found out, or it goes wrong and they end up having these targets walking around with fucked up memories. It’s just- It’s not worth it, okay? Even I’m not insane enough to try it.”

Hongseok’s got that thoughtful look on his face again, like the gears in his brain are turning, whirring and before he gets any ideas, Hyojong knocks his head again, harder now.

“Why are you even asking about all this, huh?” he questions, wondering why he’s suddenly so interested in the topic. “If you’re trying to get me to do it to you so that you won’t forget me, you know it won’t even work because you’re not my target.”

“I’m not _your_ target,” Hongseok says then, both brows raising pointedly. “But I could be someone else’s.”

Hyojong’s stomach drops, heart clenches, panic slowly rising in him, because how had he figured it out? Hyojong didn’t accidentally say anything about it, did he? Or had Hongseok overheard him and Changgu? Does he really know-

“After we talked about it the other day, it got me thinking, you know, and I realised there’s a lot of things I don’t remember,” he continues, oblivious to the alarm in Hyojong’s eyes. “I don’t even remember how I died.”

“You- You told me you got sick-”

“And that’s all I could tell you!” Hongseok’s jaw tightens, like he’s frustrated, his knuckles going pale where he grips onto the bench too hard. “I wanted to tell you more, I really did, but as soon as I said it, I realised I couldn’t remember anything other than that. I don’t remember how it happened, or where I was, or who was with me. _Nothing._ ”

“So I was thinking and thinking and thinking, and that’s when it hit me. I must’ve been someone’s target, and- and they must’ve taken my memories. That must be why I can’t remember anything!”

He doesn’t mention Changgu at all, and for all their sakes, Hyojong hopes he never finds out, because if he’s hoping that his angel will come back to him and bring back his memories, he’s going to be disappointed. If even Hyojong wouldn’t dare try to keep someone’s memory intact, there’s just no way that Changgu would. He doesn’t know what really happened between him and Hongseok back then, but he doubts that it was enough to make Changgu risk everything he’s worked for.

But his mind goes back to Changgu crying over him, Hongseok, his Hongseok, and now, he’s not so sure anymore.

“Maybe,” is all Hyojong can bring himself to say, because he doesn’t have the heart to completely crush his hope, because he’s beginning to think that Changgu might know more than he let on, because maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance that Hongseok still has his memories somewhere in there and Hyojong doesn’t know what he’s going to do if he does.

—

Hyojong hears the click of the lock, then Hwitaek’s voice saying, “You really didn’t have to walk me all the way back, Wooseokie.”

A laugh. Then Wooseok saying, “No, it’s okay, hyung. I like walking with you.” A pause, the briefest peck, the telltale sound of lips against cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow night then?”

“Tomorrow night,” Hwitaek echoes. Then the door opens, shuts, the lock clicks again, and- “Oh, Hyojong, you’re here.”

He offers a thin smile. “I’m always here.”

“Yeah, you are,” Hwitaek says back, his voice small like he’s speaking to himself, eyes clouded over with something that Hyojong can’t quite figure out. Then he blinks, and it’s gone, putting on a bright smile instead. “You hungry?”

Hyojong lets out a chuckle, his head shaking. “I don’t need to eat, remember?”

“ _Right._ ”

They just stand there, neither of them knowing what to say, because they haven’t really spoken much lately, all of Hwitaek’s free time taken up by Wooseok now. And Hyojong doesn’t like the silence, doesn’t like the way it makes it feel like they’re strangers, so he asks, “What’s tomorrow night?”

The mention of it makes Hwitaek’s face twist into a grimace, and he speaks through gritted teeth when he answers, “Wooseok asked me out to dinner. Told me to wear something nice. I think he’s going to ask me to his boyfriend or something.”

Hyojong almost laughs at how he says it, a little snort coming up his throat. “Why do you sound like he’s asking you to go jump off a cliff?”

“Jumping off a cliff would be better than this,” Hwitaek grumbles, then- “God, I sound so mean, but… He’s so _clingy,_ Hyojong, and- and did you know that he waits for me after my classes? Like every single one? Just to walk me to the next one as if it isn’t just across the hall? I mean, doesn’t he have his _own_ classes to go to?”

Hyojong shouldn’t find it funny, shouldn’t be enjoying it, but he already feels a smile betraying him, his cheeks puffing out to try and hide it.

“And he tells me that he likes me, like, every five minutes,” he groans, like it’s the worst thing in the world. “As if I can’t tell by those heart eyes of his every time he looks at me!”

That does it for Hyojong, no longer able to hold it back, a loud laugh bursting out of him. “You _are_ being mean,” he says, reaching out to punch his shoulder. “Isn’t it a good thing that he likes you that much?”

“It would be, if I actually liked him back.”

And, _okay._

So it wasn’t just him and his mind and his tricks. He wasn’t just seeing things. And he hates that it makes him feel better, makes him happy. But as much as it does, he can’t believe he’d let himself be fooled again, can’t believe he didn’t trust his gut enough to put a stop to this before it got this far, and now he’s worried that they’re gonna end up with a lot more broken hearts than they started out with.

“If you don’t like him…” he starts, his laughter subsiding, settling into something more serious. “Why the hell did you keep going out with him?”

“Because-” Hwitaek looks torn, confused, his voice laced with a sheepish whine. “You seemed so stressed about not finding a good match for me, so I just thought that I’d go out with him once so you wouldn’t have to worry so much anymore. But then he just kept asking for more, and I felt bad if I said no-”

Hyojong holds up a hand to stop him, because _fuck._ “This isn’t about me, Hwitaek. You shouldn’t have- Why didn’t you just-” He presses the heels of his palms against his eyes. “This was a waste of time. If you knew it wasn’t going to work out, you should’ve just told me. I would’ve understood, we could’ve started looking for someone else, but now you- you’ve got this poor kid’s hopes up and for what?” He looks at Hwitaek, almost disappointed. “You, of all people, should know how much false hope can hurt.”

That seems to hit Hwitaek like a brick, his stance going slack, mouth falling open, but he has nothing to say, no way to explain himself, because he knows that Hyojong is right, that what he’s doing to Wooseok is even worse than what Jinho had done to him. At least Jinho hadn’t actually fed into Hwitaek’s obsession with him, that it had all really just been a part of Hwitaek’s own fantasy. But this…

“You’re right,” he says eventually, speaking the words so softly that Hyojong can barely hear them at first. He gulps, nodding his head once. “I’ll put a stop to it. I’ll fix it.” He stills just as he’s about to leave, looking over his shoulder, and he smiles. “Will you come with me? I’ve kinda missed having you around.”

Hyojong wants to tell him that he was there all along, that he’ll always be there, that he’s missed him too, but what comes out is, “Yeah.” And just like Hwitaek, he smiles. “Of course I’ll come with you.”

—

Wooseok turns out to be an even bigger baby than Hyojong had expected, the boy already a mess of snot and tears as soon as Hwitaek tells him that he doesn’t think they should keep seeing each other, that it’s been nice but this is as far as it can go between them, that he’s a sweet boy and he’ll find someone who can offer him far more than Hwitaek ever could.

All he can do is nod and nod and nod, because he’s a good kid, because he wasn’t even expecting to get past that first coffee date, because he looks at Hwitaek, looks at Hyojong, and he understands.

“It’s fine, hyung,” he says through a sniffle, wiping at his cheeks, trying his best to manage a smile. “I- I get it. It’s okay. It seemed to good to be true anyway. But, um, thanks. For telling me now. It would’ve been a lot more embarrassing if you’d rejected me at dinner tomorrow.”

Hwitaek can only offer a sad look, feeling pity for the boy, but they all know it’s for the best to just end things here, before it got even more out of hand, before they got even more hurt.

Wooseok comes forward to give Hwitaek a brief hug, to show that he isn’t going to hold this against him, that there are no hard feelings. Then he pulls away, looking at them again, smile growing and he tells them, “I hope you two are happy.”

Then he’s gone, leaving Hwitaek with a face so red that his head might just explode, and Hyojong’s just… _confused._

They don’t talk about it on the way back, Hwitaek keeping his head down like he’s embarrassed, and Hyojong wonders what Wooseok had meant by that. _I hope you two are happy._ Why had he said ‘you two’? Had he been referring to both of them? That he hopes both of them are happy? Or had he meant that he hopes they’re happy _together?_

But no. Just… _no._ Why would he even say that? It made no sense. Why would he think that they were together? Sure, Hwitaek’s pretty much the only person that Hyojong hangs out with with the exception of Hyunggu on days when they have class together, and yeah, everyone knows that Hyojong’s still living with Hwitaek even though there’s already been ads put out for vacant dorms, and alright, Hyojong always looks at Hwitaek like he’s the sun, moon and stars but-

_Fuck._

Is it that obvious? So much that Wooseok had noticed? That even Hwitaek has noticed now? And he thinks that’s probably why the guy can’t even look Hyojong in the eye, why he keeps his mouth shut all the way till they’re back in the apartment, why he doesn’t even say goodnight when Hyojong heads into his room.

Hyojong curses himself under his breath as he flops onto the bed, laid out flat on his back, staring at the empty ceiling. He knew that his stupid little crush would come back to bite him in the ass soon enough, and now things are probably going to be weird between them, which only makes his job harder. He can already see it, Hwitaek giving him that tight smile that he’d given Wooseok, only keeping him around because he’s too nice to tell him to leave, because he still needs Hyojong’s help. And he feels sick just thinking about it, bile rising in his throat, his stomach twisting into knots and-

He lifts his head, looking down, and his body tenses up when he sees that Hwitaek’s there, lying with his head on Hyojong’s stomach, looking up at the ceiling too.

And he asks, “I did the right thing, right? Ending things with Wooseok?”

Hyojong lets his body relax, easing his rising heartbeat as best as he can, leaning his head back down. “Yeah,” he tells him. “You did. He’s not your match. It wouldn’t have been fair to either of you to keep stringing each other along.”

He feels Hwitaek nod against him, a long sigh leaving his lips, like he’s accepted it, and he shuffles around so that he’s lying on his side, cheek pressed up against Hyojong’s torso. And if Hyojong lifted his head again, they’d be staring right at each other, and he doesn’t trust himself not to do something completely stupid if that happened, so he keeps his gaze on the ceiling, not daring to look away even once. Not when he begins to hear the familiar sounds of Hwitaek dozing off, the small puffs of air that Hyojong’s gotten used to after spending one too many nights keeping his nightmares at bay. Not when Hwitaek unconsciously reaches for his hand, holding it close to his chest like Hyojong was a lifeline that he didn’t want to let go of. Not even when Hwitaek’s sleep-laced voice says, “You know, Hyojong, maybe _you’re_ my match.”

In another universe, Hyojong might even agree with him.

In another universe, he might finally find his happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i pretty much brought wooseok in and kicked him out in one chap but... like i mentioned at the start, some characters only play minor roles in this and it's already the 6th chapter so i don't wanna drag it out any longer than i need to and i know that for a huidawn fic there's barely any huidawn lol but please bear with me :)))) comments & kudos would be appreciated and you know where to find me ! [twitter](https://t.co/53juFqJvjz),[curious cat](https://t.co/igkkeEKzGK)


	7. “true love, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the next chapter! i had a lot of fun writing it and it's pretty long lol so i hope that can make up for the slow update and i guess this is sort of... the calm before the storm? ha ha anyway please enjoy!!!
> 
> p/s: there's mentions of drowning, just in case anyone needs a heads up

The right place, the right time, the right person.

That’s how Hyojong decides to explain it to Hwitaek, telling him that there’s really no point in trying to find his match, that when it’s the right time, when they’re in the right place, then the right person will come along.

A part of him knows what it really is, knows that it’s just an excuse for him to spend time with Hwitaek, for him to forget that he’s on a mission, that he has a job to finish. It’s just an excuse for the both of them to put aside all the matchmaking bullshit, to leave behind all the failed attempts at finding a match for Hwitaek, to just lose themselves in the right there and then of it all.

“Can’t we go somewhere?” Hwitaek asks him, spread out on the edge of his bed, his legs stretched over Hyojong’s like they belonged there. “I keep seeing Jinho and Wooseok everywhere I go. It’s exhausting.”

Hyojong understands, sees how hard he struggles to avoid Jinho, how he has to fake a smile whenever Wooseok catches his eye. Really, if he could, he’d take Hwitaek wherever he wants to go, to the ends of the Earth even. They’d never have to come back, they’d just hide away together, hide from everything and everyone. And it would be just the two of them, just him and Hwitaek, forever.

He could, but he won’t. Because he’s afraid that if he does, he really might just keep him, might never let him go. And as nice as that sounds, as nice as Hwitaek might think it is, Hyojong can’t do that to him. He has his whole life here; school, work, friends, probably a family somewhere nearby. It’d be selfish of Hyojong to take him away from all of that.

Still, he’s just as exhausted having to watch Hwitaek put up with these people, knows that the guy would be grateful for just one day away from it all. So Hyojong sits up, pats his leg, and he says, “Come on, I’ll take you somewhere.”

The way Hwitaek’s face lights up right then burns itself into the back of Hyojong’s mind, a pretty picture he’ll definitely see every time his eyes fall shut.

His excitement quickly begins to ebb away as soon as they head out, his features twisting into a confused frown, footsteps growing heavier with each step.

“What’s wrong?” Hyojong questions, nudging his slow legs with the toe of his shoe, urging him to move faster. “I thought you wanted to go out.”

Hwitaek looks between Hyojong and their feet, his tone flat when he answers, “Yeah, but we’re _walking._ ” When Hyojong just arches an eyebrow for him to continue, he adds a rather exasperated, “I thought you were gonna fly me somewhere!”

That almost makes Hyojong laugh, half amused, half offended, a light scoff accompanying his teasing, “What, do I look like an airplane to you?”

“Well, you already have the wings,” Hwitaek chimes back, his frown already curving up into a stupid grin, elbow reaching out to nudge Hyojong’s side, and Hyojong lets out a laugh.

“Just follow me, okay?” Hyojong tells him, nudging him back. “This place is cool.”

Hwitaek doesn’t seem quite convinced, but he goes along with it anyway, picking up the pace when Hyojong calls him an old man. It doesn’t take long before they’re racing each other, feet kicking up dust, Hwitaek determined to get there first even though he has no idea where ‘there’ is.

And when he does get there, he lets out a triumphant yell, pumping his fists in the air, calling out, “Who’s the old man now-” His arms drop to his sides, eyes taking in their surroundings. “What is this place?”

“This is where I hangout,” Hyojong answers, breath running out just slightly, surprised at how much energy Hwitaek had when just earlier, he’d been content to just laze around in Hyojong’s bed.

“It looks abandoned,” Hwitaek says, nose scrunching up at the rusty swings that sit in the middle of the park, eyes picking out the layers of paint peeling away from the bench that’s become all too familiar to Hyojong now.

Hyojong snorts at his reaction, sending a dumb look his way. “That’s the point, genius.” Walking over to a particularly patchy spot of grass, Hyojong taps his foot on the ground. “This is where I landed when I first came. Hongseok found me here.”

“Hongseok?”

“My friend,” Hyojong says. Then, as if to remind Hwitaek, “My ghost friend.”

Hwitaek makes a noise of understanding before he takes another look around, hands coming to rest on his hips. “So, what are we gonna do here?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “Anything you want. Anything to make you forget about all the shit that’s been happening and just… let loose for once.”

“Let loose?” Hwitaek repeats slowly, like the concept is foreign to him, head tilting to the side.

Hyojong nods, waving a vague hand in his direction. “Yeah, let loose. I mean, surely there’s other things you enjoy apart from singing and playing piano.”

He seems to think on it, humming to himself, finger tapping his chin in time with beat of his foot and- “Ah! I like playing football! But-” His lips push out into a disappointed pout. “I haven’t played it in a long time, and we didn’t bring a ball anyway.”

“Football, huh?” It doesn’t take long for Hyojong to conjure up a ball, the object materialising between his palms almost immediately before he tosses it at Hwitaek, the guy gasping as he catches it against his chest.

His gaze flickers between Hyojong and the obviously solid ball in his hands, growing more and more confused, disbelieved, jaw inching open. “How… What… Where did that come from?”

“I made it,” is Hyojong’s simple answer, as if it was normal, as if people could just make things out of thin air.

When Hwitaek asks the inevitable, “How?” Hyojong can’t help the cheeky grin that spreads across his face as he drops his voice to a fake whisper, saying, “Magic.”

“ _Hyojong._ ”

“What?” He laughs, the sound of it bright, being picked up by the light breeze around them, carrying it through the empty park. “It’s true. It’s angel magic. I can make clothes too. You ever seen me wear the same outfit twice?”

“Now that I think about it…” Hwitaek huffs, dropping the ball to the ground, kicking it around a bit to be sure that is real. “So you can just… _make_ things?”

Hyojong’s smile twists into a smirk, brows arching. “I’m an angel,” he says, his chest puffing out a little, looking awfully smug. “I can do anything.”

“Except fly me to Rome, apparently,” Hwitaek quips, mirroring his expression, eyebrows cocked even higher.

“This is Rome!” Hyojong calls out, throwing his arms out, laughter beginning to build up in small giggles again. “If you squint.”

Despite himself, Hwitaek laughs along, his eyes rolling playfully. “Whatever,” he says, then- “Well, if you can do anything, why don’t you make something for me?”

“For you?”

Hwitaek nods. “Yeah, make something for me.”

Hyojong eyes him carefully, to see if he’s being serious, and there’s no hint of humour in his features now, eyes dead serious, like he’s trying to test Hyojong. But he won’t cave in that easily, so he jerks his head at the ball, saying, “If you win, then I’ll make you something. Deal?”

That pulls a grin out of Hwitaek, the side of his foot smacking against the ball to send it towards Hyojong. “Let’s play.”

Hyojong doesn’t actually know how to play football, but he’s seen the games on tv before and he’s always been a quick learner. If he could fake his way through an advanced dance class, then he could totally kick a ball around a field. Except, it’s a lot more difficult than he’d expected, a competitive streak switching on in Hwitaek as soon as they begin, the guy more skilled in the sport than Hyojong would’ve thought.

“Why are you so good at this?” Hyojong almost wheezes after Hwitaek scores yet another goal, the ball flying through their makeshift goalpost between two broken stools. “I thought you were a musician.”

That gets a laugh out of Hwitaek, his hand coming up to push back his sweaty hair and Hyojong tries his best to ignore how good he looks with his forehead on show.

“I used to play for my school team,” he says then, sounding quite proud of himself. “I was in the school band too, and once I got into uni, I decided to focus more on my music. I didn’t really have time to play football anymore.” He quirks a half-smile. “Plus, I had a better chance at becoming a musician than a pro footballer so…”

It’s the little things like this that Hyojong could never find out from some stupid folder, the things that only Hwitaek could tell him, things that he wants to know more about. He wants to figure him out, to hear his secrets, his hopes and dreams, fears and worries. He wants to know him, inside and out, every last bit of him. And he wants Hwitaek to know him too, except when he thinks about it, there is nothing to know about him, not really. Everything he is, everything he has, none of it is really _him._ Everything is given to him; his name, his wings, his duty. He was made to be what he is, and yet, for some reason, sometimes he feels like there is someone in there, someone that’s really him. Even in this shell of a human, this body of lies, he feels more like himself than he ever has in his own angelic skin. He feels like someone who likes dancing, someone who could learn to like football too, someone who has good friends, someone who could be a good friend too, someone who is in love, someone who could be loved in return.

He feels like he’s _real,_ and it’s Hwitaek who makes him feel that way.

And Hyojong wants it, wants to feel real, wants to be someone, wants to be someone to _him._ He wants it, and oh, what he would give to have it.

He’s pulled back to reality when he hears Hwitaek let out another victorious cry, only then realising that he’d shot the ball right past him and-

“Hey! That’s not fair! I wasn’t paying attention!” Hyojong tries to defend himself for losing another goal to him, but Hwitaek just sticks his tongue out at him like a child.

“Not my problem,” Hwitaek sings, skipping away, a wicked little grin on his lips and the look in his eyes  reminds Hyojong so much of that spark of mischief in him that day that they’d played around in the kitchen. It reminds him of how much he’d wanted to get used to that, how much he still wants to get used to it, used to them.

And before he knows it, he’s running towards Hwitaek, a devilish look on his own face and the guy immediately gets the hint, turning to run as well, laughter already bubbling up in their throats. It becomes a silly game of tag, chasing each other back and forth across the old park, no actual purpose to it other than to hear their excited shrieks when they get too close to catching one another, like a couple of kids who have nothing better to do.

It goes on and on and on, until they begin to wear themselves out, Hwitaek’s sluggish body tackling Hyojong to the ground, the both of them landing in a mess of tired limbs and breathless laughter and-

“Jeez, I’m really never gonna get used to that,” Hwitaek mutters to himself when Hyojong’s wings break out of his skin from the contact, his eyes blinking quickly to adjust to the sight. Then, more concerned, “Is this okay? Your wings?”

Hyojong manages a shrug. “Yeah, it’s fine. No one ever comes here anyway.”

“Except Hongseok,” Hwitaek points out, and Hyojong heaves out a sharp breath.

“Except Hongseok,” he says, and where is the guy anyway?

Hyojong lifts his head to look around, and when he notices Hongseok sitting on the top of the monkey bars, legs hanging off of the edge, he almost melts in complete shame. He wonders how long his friend has been there, how much he’s seen, and from the obnoxious wave of his fingers, Hyojong thinks he’s probably seen everything. Changgu is there too, watching him with an equally as knowing look, though there’s a rather obvious space between the two, like Changgu is afraid to get too close to Hongseok. Hyojong supposes he can’t blame him.

And well, he has nothing to hide from them anyway, so he just lies his head back down, facing Hwitaek, grass tickling their cheeks.

“Is he here right now?” Hwitaek asks, and when Hyojong nods, the boy seems to blush, blood rushing to his cheeks, though he tells himself it’s just from all the running. Hwitaek’s forehead creases, voice bashful when he says, “Isn’t it weird? That he’s watching us?”

Hyojong shrugs again. “It’s not like we’re doing anything.”

Hwitaek shuffles forward then, enough to make the tips of their noses touch, just barely, but enough. The corner of his mouth twitches in a smile as he whispers, “And if I wanted to do something?”

Hyojong gulps, suddenly flustered by the proximity, by his boldness, but he forces himself to speak, almost choking on his words as he does. “Then I wouldn’t stop you.”

His gaze drops to Hyojong’s lips, staring at them the way Hyojong had stared at his that time they’d kissed, and Hyojong can feel his heart climb up his throat, hammering so hard that he’s sure even Hongseok and Changgu can hear it beating from here.

He shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, _they_ shouldn’t, but Hyojong can already feel his eyelids begin to droop, leaning in closer, and-

Hwitaek is gone, turning to lie on his back instead, face towards the sky and Hyojong feels embarrassment swallow him up, quickly moving to do the same, hoping that Hwitaek can’t see just how much his face is burning right then. And _fuck,_ that was a close call. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Hwitaek had actually kissed him, if _he_ had lost control and kissed Hwitaek first, if he had allowed himself to feel all those things he felt when they first kissed all over again. He would probably lose his mind, would finally snap and do something completely insane. Hell, he’d probably just up and go right there and then, take him to fucking Rome or whatever, and they’d just spend their days kissing each other senseless.

He doesn’t get a chance to think about it anymore though, because Hwitaek says, “Thanks, Hyojong.”

“F-For what?”

“For bringing me here,” is his answer, and Hyojong can’t see it from here, but he thinks he can hear Hwitaek’s smile in his voice. “I wish we could just stay here. Just you and me.”

A smile tugs at Hyojong’s own mouth before he can help it, his voice gentle when he says, “We don’t have to go anywhere.”

Hwitaek hums, hand twitching at his side, and Hyojong pretends not to notice when their fingers brush against each other’s, knuckles to knuckles.

“But isn’t there a time limit?” Hwitaek asks then, worry lacing his words, and Hyojong doesn’t think he’s talking about their little getaway anymore. “Isn’t there a point where you have to give up on me? To move on to another target?”

Hyojong breathes in deep, lets it go, blinks his eyes up at the sky that’s growing darker by the minute. “I told you, I’m here to help you find love, and until then, I’ll be here. I’ll be here as long as you need me.” His hand inches closer and closer to Hwitaek’s, until he’s lacing their fingers together, the gesture familiar to them now. Lower, quieter, like he’s afraid to say it, he whispers, “As long as you want me.”

He’s worried that Hwitaek might get uncomfortable at the sudden forwardness, might rip his hand away from Hyojong’s and leave, but Hwitaek just squeezes his hand, once, holding him tighter.

“And if I never find love?” Hwitaek asks, the question almost daring Hyojong, as if he wants him to say that he’ll never leave him then, that he’ll stay with him forever.

Hyojong wants to say it, wants to promise him that he won’t leave, that he isn’t going anywhere, that they could just stay here, just them. But instead, he sits up, tugs on Hwitaek’s hand to pull him up as well, the two of them sat opposite each other now, legs criss-crossed, pressed together at the knees. Their joined hands rest where their legs meet, their free hands coming up to latch together too, like they’d die if they weren’t holding onto each other. Maybe Hyojong understands now why Wooseok had such a hard time letting go of Hwitaek’s hands. He has really nice hands.

He wants to say it, wants to say it all, but what he says is, “You will.”

“How can you be so sure?” Hwitaek tilts his head to the side, worrying his lip between his teeth until it blooms red, drawing blood.

Hyojong doesn’t realise that he had let go of one of Hwitaek’s hands until he sees his thumb coaxing his bleeding lip out, gently wiping away the dot of blood, lingering over his mouth longer than he needs to.

“Because I’ve never known anyone who’s more worthy of love than you, Hwitaek.”

He hears himself say it, feels the words settle into the air around them, sees the subtle changes in Hwitaek’s expression; the widening of his eyes, the rising of his brows, the parting of his lips and before Hyojong embarrasses himself any further, he coughs, drops his hand, looks away.

“And like I said, we just need to wait for the right place, right time, ri-”

“Right person,” Hwitaek finishes before Hyojong can, a dull pang in his voice. “I know, I know. But does it always work that way?”

Hyojong heaves a long breath, frame slumping forward just a little, the tips of his fingers on the hand that’s still laced with Hwitaek’s absentmindedly running across his knuckles like a habit, finding a comfort of a sort in it.

“Sometimes, it’s the right place, the right time, but it’s just not the right person,” he explains, the case being the most common among his targets, and it’s most likely what’s happening with Hwitaek now as well. “But sometimes… it’s the right person, but they just can’t seem to find the right place, the right time.” Hyojong looks up at Hwitaek then, a reminiscent smile on his face. “That’s how it was with Hyunggu and Yuto.”

The mention of his friends seems to spark a curiosity in Hwitaek, the guy sitting up straighter, saying, “Really? Them?”

Hyojong nods, then- “Did Hyunggu ever tell you how they got together?”

Hwitaek tries to recall it, shoulders lifting loosely when he answers, “I don’t know, he just said that he’d die if they didn’t get together. But I mean, I’m sure he was just exaggerating-”

He’s cut off by the sound of Hyojong’s scoff and a muttered, “Well, that’s one way to put it.”

His eyes narrow, that innocent curiosity of his turning into something more serious, his tone almost worried as he says, “Hyojong… What did you do?”

“You have to promise not to judge me,” Hyojong warns, starting to shift under his pointed gaze, chin sticking out defensively.

“You’re the angel,” is Hwitaek’s simple reply. “I don’t think I’m in any position to judge.”

Hyojong looks at him, really looks at him, sitting there with the evening sun behind him, the way it makes him glow, all soft edges and warm tones, just like that first time he saw him. And he wants to say, _Right now, you’re the angel,_ but he thinks he’s already said one too many things that he shouldn’t have today. So he bites it back, swallows it down, saves it for another time, another day.

Then he starts.

“By the time I was assigned to Hyunggu, he’d already been in love with Yuto for _years._ It was your typical love story; best friends since they were kids, Hyunggu started to like him more than he was supposed to, but he was convinced that Yuto would always just see him as a friend. I don’t know why he thought that, because Yuto clearly had the same feelings for him. Anyone who knew them could tell. So, it was a clear cut case, you know? All I had to do was get Hyunggu to confess to Yuto, Yuto would do the same, and end of story, right?”

Hwitaek nods to show that he’s listening, so Hyojong continues.

“But Hyunggu was stubborn, so, so stubborn. He just _refused_ to tell Yuto, worried that if he did, he’d ruin their friendship. And at one point, I’d tried to ask him whether he’d be up for finding a new match, that if it was so hard for him to make things work with Yuto, then maybe he wasn’t the one for him. But no. Hyunggu was sure of it, he knew that Yuto was the right person, that he’d always be the right person. They just needed to wait for the right place, the right time.

“So we waited and waited and waited, and it just wasn’t coming. Any other Cupid would’ve given up, would’ve forced their target to move on to someone else, but I don’t know… There was something about Hyunggu that made me want to believe him. Like, if he was sure that Yuto was the right person for him, then I just had to trust that. I don’t know what it was about him that had me so convinced, but it’s just… It’s Hyunggu, you know?”

“I know,” Hwitaek laughs, his head nodding again like he understands. “And then what happened?”

“Well, as much as I wanted to support him, there was only so long that I could wait. I’d already been there for months, almost a year even, just waiting and waiting and I was tired. I just wanted to get it over with, to go home, and I-”

He stops for a moment as he remembers it, how desperate he’d felt, how hopeless, how _stupid._ That’s all it was, wasn’t it? Him being stupid, not in his right mind, too corrupted by the toxic of this world that wasn’t his own. It drove him insane, made him hurt someone, almost _kill_ someone. And he wonders if it’ll happen again, if staying here means that he’ll begin to lose himself again, to lose whatever he has left.

“There was a beach trip, one of those end of high school type things, and we were there. Hyunggu was swimming by himself, Yuto was playing volleyball with some of the other guys. It wasn’t a big deal, but it was obvious that Hyunggu wanted Yuto to go swim with him, to spend time with him. Still, he didn’t dare ask, and Yuto definitely wasn’t going to make the first move, and I just- It was the right place, the right time, the right people, but nothing was fucking happening, so I had to do something. I needed to do something, so I… I made Hyunggu drown.”

“You _what?_ ”

“It wasn’t hard. He was already pretty far out, on the deep end, and all it took was a little cramp in his leg for him to go under.” Hyojong isn’t proud of it, not at all, but… “It worked. Yuto saw, dove right in to save him, pulled him out of the water, tried to get him to breathe again. And the whole time, he’d just gone on and on about how he loved Hyunggu, how Hyunggu couldn’t leave him like this, how he needed him back.” He swallows, thick, bitter. “It’s funny what people will do when the person they love is about to be taken away from them.”

Hyojong clears his throat, straightens his back, flashes a tight smile. “Hyunggu came to eventually, heard all of Yuto’s words, confessed his love to him too. And that was that. That was the last time I saw them before now.”

He watches as Hwitaek’s mouth opens and shuts, opens and shuts, opens, shuts, and Hyojong can feel him suck the air dry with every breath that he takes and-

“What if Yuto didn’t get to save him? What if- What if he was too late? What if he _did_ save him, but he didn’t even confess his love? What if it was all for nothing-”

“But it wasn’t for nothing!” Hyojong cuts in, voice starting to strain, face screwing up in frustration. “I mean, it’s not like I _wanted_ to hurt him, okay? I was just- I was running out of options. And I paid the price for it. I got my punishment once I was home, they put me through _hell_ for endangering my target, for putting someone’s life on the line. But even without that, the memory of what I did, what I let myself do, still haunts me to this day. Hyunggu might’ve forgotten, Yuto too, maybe even everyone back home has forgotten how badly I fucked up, but _I_ don’t get to forget it. I can never forget it. Don’t you get that?”

Hwitaek stares at him, like he’s trying to get it, trying to understand him, understand why he’d go that far, risk that much, when he didn’t even know for sure that Yuto was Hyunggu’s match. At the time, Hyojong didn’t understand it either, thought that it was just a desperate attempt at finishing the job, anything to just go home. But now, he thinks it was more than that. Now, remembering the relief he’d felt when he saw Hyunggu again, when he saw that he was still with Yuto, that they were both the right matches for each other after all, Hyojong knows what it was.

“You know, all these years, all these people,” Hyojong starts, gaze casting downwards, unable to look at Hwitaek. “I never really felt like I understood love. Sure, it’s my job to help people find love, but I don’t think I ever really knew what it was that they were looking for. But with Hyunggu, with Yuto, I knew that was it. True love or whatever, you know?” He laughs, but it’s hollow, just a breath of air. “I remember Hyunggu telling me, ‘Hyung, I love him. And because I love him, because I’m sure that one day he’ll love me too, no matter what happens, no matter how long it takes, I know it’ll all work out. It’ll all be worth it. You’ll see.’” He sighs as the memory plays in the back of his mind, his head shaking slowly, finally looking up at Hwitaek. “Imagine that, I’m standing there, _me,_ an angel who’s roamed this universe for centuries, who’s seen just about everything there is to see in this world, and I’ve got this 18-year old kid pretty much telling me how to do my job.”

That makes Hwitaek smile, fondness crossing his face. “That does sound like Hyunggu.”

Hyojong nods in agreement, letting himself smile too. “Do you understand now? Why I did what I did?”

“I understand, Hyojongie,” Hwitaek tells him, nothing but sincerity in his tone, and to show that he means it, he leans forward to pull Hyojong into a hug, tucking his head into the side of Hyojong’s neck, his words mumbled into his skin. “I’m glad you helped them.” Softer, like he’s reluctant to say it, he adds, “And I’m glad you’re helping me.”

There’s a bittersweet pang in Hyojong’s chest, Hwitaek’s words a reminder that after today, after this break from reality, they have to go back to the job, to wait for that right person to come along, to stop living in this fantasy where they can just lie together while the sun goes down. And before he upsets himself, before the air gets too heavy again, Hyojong pulls away, saying, “Hey, uh, I owe you a prize, right? For winning the game?”

“Oh!” Hwitaek perks up, like he’s excited, but as always, he’s too humble, quickly saying, “No, you don’t have to. I was just teasing you.”

“No, no, no, I want to,” Hyojong insists, waving him off. “What do you want?”

Hwitaek’s mouth curls into something cheeky, and he shoots a quick wink at him before he says, “Surprise me.”

That turns Hyojong into a flustered mess, his palms suddenly sweaty and he presses them together, pretending to warm them up. He has no idea what to make for him, has never been one for surprises, but the guy looks so eager, and Hyojong finds himself wanting to make something perfect for him, as perfect as Hwitaek himself. But he can’t think of anything that would ever do him justice, his hands still rubbing together in thought, and while he’s trying to conjure something up, he hears Hwitaek ask, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Well… You said that you didn’t know what true love was until Hyunggu and Yuto,” is what Hwitaek says, that tone in his voice yet again, daring him, pushing him. “So all those years, all those people, you’d never felt true love for yourself? Not even once?”

“No,” Hyojong answers easily, because he hadn’t. Not once. And as he’s looking at Hwitaek, he feels something form between his empty palms, small, solid, and when he spreads his hands, there’s a ring sitting there. Plain, silver, a thin band that would fit right around Hwitaek’s middle finger, and it does fit, settling nicely against his skin when Hyojong slips it on.

And when Hwitaek holds his hand up to look at it, sunlight reflecting off of it, making it glow, all soft edges and warm tones, Hyojong realises he’s made something as perfect as Hwitaek. Something pure. Something real.

 _No,_ he had told Hwitaek, but what he really wants to say, what he bites back, what he swallows down, what he’ll save for another time, another day is, _But I feel it now._

—

“Gross,” Hongseok almost gags, watching as Hyojong puts a ring on Hwitaek, the two of them stupidly grinning at each other like they have the whole time they’ve been here, as if they were the only two people in the world, as if Hyojong’s forgotten that he and Changgu are sitting right there.

He doesn’t know why the angel is here, they’ve never really interacted with each other without Hyojong being there, never really having a reason to. But his friend has been rather occupied with Hwitaek as of late, so Hongseok hadn’t turned down the offer of company when Changgu showed up at the park earlier. They didn’t speak much, they didn’t have anything to talk about, really, but still, just having someone around was nice.

Changgu speaks right then though, his tone light, amused even, asking, “You don’t approve?”

“It’s not my place to approve or not,” Hongseok answers, lifting his shoulders like he couldn’t be bothered, because really, at this point, he’s given up on trying to keep Hyojong’s morals straight, to stop him from getting too caught up in this mess. “I just think it’s funny, you know? A couple of months ago, Hyojong was preaching anti-love, and now he’s head over heels for this guy, looking like they’re getting married in an old park as if this is some kind of shitty rom-com.”

“So, you don’t approve,” Changgu laughs, turning to him with a teasing smile. “Are you jealous or something?”

“God, no,” he’s quick to say, shuddering at the thought, and really, he isn’t. At least, not in the way that Changgu is implying. Maybe he’s a bit jealous of the fact that Hwitaek gets to spend so much time with Hyojong, especially when that time is running out with each day that passes. Maybe he just wants to hangout with Hyojong a bit more while he can, while he’s still here, like they used to. Maybe he’s worried that once all of this over, Hyojong will forget him.

He watches as Hyojong and Hwitaek get up to leave, pulling apart from each other just so Hyojong can hide his wings again, the two of them walking away, further and further, and Hyojong doesn’t even spare a goodbye for Hongseok or Changgu, not even a glance. And he feels like maybe Hyojong’s already forgotten him.

“He just seems different, that’s all,” Hongseok murmurs, his words coming out sadder than he meant them to, body slumping with a sigh.

“He is different,” Changgu agrees, though he sounds the opposite of Hongseok, bright, pleased. “He’s happier. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy before.”

Hongseok wouldn’t know, he hasn’t known Hyojong as long as Changgu has after all, but he supposes there is some truth to it. When they’d first met, Hyojong had been bitter, careless, rough around the edges, but now, he was a lot more gentle, with his actions, his words. He smiled a lot more too. Hongseok supposes that’s what love does to a person.

“You ever felt that?” Hongseok asks.

“What, happy?”

“No.” He looks at Changgu over his shoulder. “Love.”

Changgu holds his gaze, not even blinking, and there’s a flicker of a smile on his face, his voice growing quiet. “Maybe once.”

Hongseok is surprised, to say the least, because he’d thought that Hyojong was the only angel who’d somehow gotten caught in the strings of love, who’d given in to these human desires. But he supposes he was wrong, because it seems even an angel like Changgu had fallen prey to it, and it piques his interest, body shifting around to face Changgu properly.

“What happened then?” he asks, head tilting in question, curiosity in his dark eyes.

That bare smile on Changgu’s lips fades completely, finally breaking eye contact, unable to bring himself to look at Hongseok when he says, “I left him.”

“Well, are you going to go back to him?”

“I already have.”

Changgu lifts his head to see whether Hongseok had understood what he’d meant, but his expression is blank, clueless, innocent almost; big eyes and parted lips, like the first time they’d met. He almost laughs when Hongseok asks, “And then what?”

“He doesn’t remember me,” Changgu tells him, and it makes Hongseok frown, brows pulling together, lips pouting. It’s adorable, Changgu thinks.

“Can’t you make him remember?” is what he says then, as if it was something simple, easy, like he could just snap his fingers and everything would magically go back to the way it was.

Changgu sighs, coming out heavy, tired, as does his voice. “And when he remembers that I left him, what happens then?”

That makes Hongseok go still for a moment, thinking about it, that frown of his deepening, until eventually he decides to say, “I think… If he loved you too, then maybe he’d understand.”

And Changgu wants to ask him, _Did you love me? Would you understand? Do you really want to remember?_

But he just offers Hongseok a weak smile, and he says, “Maybe.”

—

“True love, huh?”

Hyojong hears Hongseok’s voice as soon as he steps out of the apartment building and he startles, almost jumping as he turns to his friend with wide eyes.

Hongseok gives him a shit-eating grin, sounding almost mocking when he snorts, “Who knew you’d turn out to be such a sap.”

“What the hell, man?” Hyojong punches his shoulder, clicking his tongue, sharp. “What are you doing here? I was just about to go see you.”

That makes Hongseok’s eyebrows shoot up, like he doesn’t believe it, a scoff escaping his throat. “Really? Thought you forgot about me already.”

“Me?” Hyojong shoves him again, but it’s more playful now, almost teasing, and he starts to walk, Hongseok falling into step with him too. “Says the guy who’s suddenly cosying up to Changgu.” He gives him a look. “What’s that about, huh? Have I been replaced?”

The corner of Hongseok’s mouth lifts in a half-smirk. “Yeah, you have. He’s a lot cuter than you, you know.”

Hyojong clutches his chest, feigning heartache, but then he laughs, saying, “Fair enough.” On a more serious note, he asks, “Really though, what did you guys talk about?”

He tries not to sound so nosy, but he can’t help but wonder if Changgu had finally found the courage to tell Hongseok the truth. But he supposes he didn’t, because what Hongseok says is, “About you and Hwitaek.”

Hyojong’s eyes narrow, gesturing for him to continue, and that stupid grin finds its way back onto his face, even wider now.

“Nothing, just, you know…” He holds back a laugh. “When’s the wedding?”

There’s a familiar sound when Hyojong’s hand hits Hongseok’s head, the ghost making a noise of pain, crying out, “Ow, asshole, that hurt!”

And Hyojong huffs at him, saying, “Serves you right for talking bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit, though,” Hongseok shoots back, still rubbing at his head that would definitely bruise if he were still alive, making a dumb face at Hyojong. “You gave him a ring. You’re practically engaged.”

Hyojong rolls his eyes to cover up the fact that he’s embarrassed that Hongseok had seen that, that he’d been so dazed by Hwitaek to the point that he’d forgotten they were being watched. “It’s just a ring,” he tries to say, sounding rather defensive. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Hongseok presses, looking at him more intently now. “You _gave_ him something, Hyojong. Don’t think I forgot what that means.”

At first, Hyojong wonders what he’s going on about, what he’s trying to say, and-

“What? No. No, no, no. It’s not like that.” He shakes his head, quick to deny the accusation. “I wasn’t trying to give him something to remember me. I wasn’t even _thinking_ of it. I told you, I wouldn’t dare try it.”

Hongseok looks skeptical, and Hyojong groans, loud, frustrated.

“I’m serious!” he insists, because really, that wasn’t his intention at all. But now that he thinks about it… _No._ He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. No way. “It wouldn’t even work with that, okay? It was just a stupid gift. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Hongseok watches him for a moment or two longer, like he’s trying to decide whether to believe him or not. Eventually, he lets out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes as he sings out, “O- _kay,_ if you say so.”

“I do say so, you punk,” Hyojong grumbles back before he jumps up to pull Hongseok into a headlock, his friend immediately bursting into a fit of laughter, trying to push him off and-

“Hyojong.”

He freezes, arms slowly coming away from Hongseok, standing upright to see who had called him, and when his eyes meet a familiar face, his breath catches in his throat.

“ _Yanan._ ”

Hyojong looks at him, at how faded he is, like he’s not really there, wondering if he’s just seeing things but-

“So, you’re Yanan!” Hongseok calls out, and if the ghost can see him too, then it must be real. Yanan must really be there. But… How? Why? What-

He offers a goofy grin, holding out a hand. “I’m Hong-”

“I know who you are,” Yanan cuts in, his tone sharp, impatient almost, a scowl pulling his lips down.

If Hongseok notices the hostility, he pays no mind to it, still joking around as he says, “What, do you guys have a group chat where you gossip about me or something?”

“Hongseok-” Hyojong starts in warning, but Yanan beats him to it, giving him a cold look, almost spitting out, “Leave us, ghost.”

Hongseok turns to Hyojong in panic, obviously taken aback by his unfriendliness, and he isn’t sure what to do either because he’s never seen Yanan act this way, so he just gives him a small jerk of his chin, telling him, “Give me a minute, okay? I’ll catch up with you.”

He looks reluctant to leave, but Hyojong gives him another half-nod, more persistent, so he caves in, muttering something about ‘stupid fucking angels’ before he vanishes, leaving Hyojong with Yanan.

“What are you doing here?” Hyojong asks, turning to him with a furrowed look. “How are you even here?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not actually here,” is Yanan’s answer, sounding detached in a way, his voice dragging in the air. “I’m not stupid enough to leave home without permission.”

“But then how-” Hyojong stops short when he realises what it is exactly that Yanan’s doing, why he looks like he’s there but not there, and his jaw goes slack. “Since when are you strong enough to project yourself?”

Yanan’s face seems to go stiff at that, as though he’s offended, and it’s clear that he is when he speaks through gritted teeth, saying, “Just because I’m not like Changgu doesn’t mean I’m completely useless.”

That makes Hyojong wince, his words like a smack in the face and he’s quick to say, “No, Yananie, that’s not what I meant. I just- Projection takes a _lot_ of energy, you know? Especially all the way here.”

“I know, but… I had to see you, Hyojong.” He takes a step closer, and his anger dissolves into worry, concern, tainting his voice when he says, “I think it’s time for you to come home.”

“What? _No!_ Why-”

“You said you’d be fine, you told me you’d be fine, but-” Yanan makes a frustrated sound, jabbing a finger at Hyojong’s chest. “I told you, didn’t I? What would happen if you came back to Earth so soon? This mission was a disaster right from the start and you know it.”

Hyojong throws a sharp look at him, almost hurt. “I’ve been trying my best, okay? I’m just doing my job. I’m not hurting _anyone-_ ”

“You’re hurting yourself!” Yanan cries, and it’s only then that Hyojong notices how worn out he looks, eyes red, rimmed with dark circles, skin paler than it’s supposed to be. “You’re letting _him_ hurt you. That Hwitaek.” He speaks his name with a hiss, like it’s burning in his mouth, a foul word. “He’s ruining you, confusing you, and you’re just letting him do it. Don’t you see that?”

“H-Have you been watching over me?” Hyojong asks, suddenly uncomfortable at the thought of Yanan seeing everything he’s done these past few months, a coldness coming over him, wrapping around him like a dark cloud.

Yanan’s feature settles into tired lines, his words coming out hushed in the space between them. “I always watch over you, Hyojong. It’s all I can do.”

He moves forward to take Hyojong’s hands in his, but he can barely feel him, his skin prickling against his own. “Look, I don’t know what game you’re playing here, what kind of spell this guy has put on you, but it’s time to stop it, okay? Just let it go. Just come home.”

Hyojong feels his head shake, hands slowly slipping out of Yanan’s hold. “I can’t go. Not yet. The job isn’t finished-”

“Who cares about the job?” Yanan grabs onto him again, tighter, harder, his wrists beginning to ache. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t finish one job! It’s not gonna hurt your reputation-”

“It’s not about me!” Hyojong yells back, his voice coming out hoarse. “I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing this for _him._ I’m just trying to help him.”

“And who’s going to help _you?_ ” Yanan looks at him, eyes clouded, narrowed. “At the end of the day, when he finds what he’s looking for, when he forgets all about you, who’s going to be there for you?”

Hyojong doesn’t have an answer for him, because really, who will be there? Hongseok will probably forget him, and even if he doesn’t, it’s not like Hyojong can stay, it’s not like he can take Hongseok with him. Changgu might pity him, might let him wallow in misery for a few days, then he’d just come along and hand another assignment to him, like he always does. Hyojong wouldn’t blame him, they all had duties to carry out, roles to play. They didn’t have time to cry over humans.

Back then, after what happened with Hyunggu, after he’d gotten his punishment, it was Yanan who cared for Hyojong, who gave him all the strength he’d lost, who reminded him who he was, what he was. Back then, it was Yanan who helped him, who was there for him, but Hyojong doesn’t think he’s going to be there anymore. Not after this.

He pulls his hands away, marked red where Yanan had held onto him too harshly, and it pains him to say it, but Hyojong tells him, “Go home, Yanan. This isn’t your place.”

Hyojong expects him to put up a fight, to keep trying to convince him to come back, but he just lets out a sigh, the sound of it chilling, sending a shiver right up Hyojong’s spine.

“You’re right, it’s not my place,” Yanan says, taking a look around before he turns his back to him. “But you forget…” He looks back at Hyojong over his shoulder, eyes flashing a shade darker. “It isn’t yours either.”

—

Hyojong bumps into Hyunggu just outside their dance class, because he still has to keep that guise up, because he actually enjoys it sometimes, and when he looks up to meet his eyes, the boy looks just as miserable as he does.

All it takes is a, “Wanna ditch?” and they find themselves by the lake on the far end of campus, matching sodas in their hands, matching frowns on their lips.

Neither of them say anything at first, just watching the gentle swish of the murky water, listening to the birds, the breeze. Right there, right then, it’s peaceful, quiet, simple, like everything was right in the world, like nothing could go wrong. If only.

“Did you know I’m scared of water?” Hyunggu says out of nowhere, eyes going glassy as he continues to stare at the open lake, his body growing still. “I wasn’t always scared of it. I loved it, really, but…” He sighs, heavy, burdened. “I drowned once, while I was on a beach trip about a year ago. Ever since then, I just…”

Hyojong feels guilt creep around him like a shadow, clamping down onto his shoulders like claws, threatening to bury him deep, deep, deep into the ground for what he did. He wants to say sorry, to apologise for hurting him, for risking his life like that, but he can’t. Hyunggu wouldn’t understand, he would think that Hyojong was just talking nonsense, that Hyojong couldn’t possibly have had anything to do with it.

Still, he wants to say it, he needs to say it, so he does, his voice barely a murmur when he tells him, “I’m sorry, Hyunggu.”

And even if Hyunggu never really knows what he means by it, at the very least, he’ll know that he’s said it.

Hyunggu sighs again, but it’s lighter now, like he’d let go of that heavy past of his, let it sink right to the bottom of that dark lake, let it drown the way that he did. “No, it’s okay, it was a long time ago.” He turns to Hyojong, a smile stretching his mouth. “And it wasn’t all bad. That was the day Yuto and I got together.”

His smile falters at the mention of Yuto’s name, that misery back in his eyes, and Hyojong is quick to pick up on the sudden change, asking, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

The boy tries to wave him off, telling him it’s not a big deal, but Hyojong knows him all too well, knows that Hyunggu hardly ever let things bother him, knows that if something was bringing him down, then it definitely was a big deal.

He elbows Hyunggu’s side, offering a small smile, warm, kind. “Come on, you can talk to me. We’re friends, right?”

Hyunggu nods, cheeks puffed out like a child, and it takes him a moment or two, chewing on his straw to stall his time, but eventually, he admits, “Yuto and I are fighting.”

 _Ah,_ Hyojong had figured as much. Nothing could ever upset Hyunggu more than that. It’s not like they fought often, but when they did, it was awful. He can’t even begin to count how many nights he’d spent consoling a crying Hyunggu, how on those nights, Hyunggu had almost stopped believing in them, in their love.

He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Hyunggu had given up on them back then, he doesn’t know what he’d do if he gives up on them now. Because the two of them, they’re just… _perfect._ Hyojong doesn’t believe in fairytales and all that happily ever after bullshit, but if anyone were to come close to that, it’s them.

And he’ll never admit it, but a part of him likes to think that if they could find a love that lasts, then maybe he could too.

“What about?” Hyojong asks, wondering what could’ve gone wrong when they were completely fine just days ago.

Hyunggu sniffles, wiping at his nose with his sleeve, sounding glum when he answers, “He’s mad at me for the whole thing with Wooseok and Hwitaek-hyung.”

“Oh.”

“He didn’t like the idea from the start, but Wooseok was too happy to even bother listening to him,” he explains. “And when Hwitaek actually dumped him, Yuto blamed me for it. Said that I set Wooseok up for disappointment, that I should’ve known better.”

Hyunggu looks torn, like half of him regrets it, but the other half doesn’t see what was so wrong about it. “But I mean, it’s not like I wanted him to get hurt! I just wanted him to give it a chance, to let himself be _happy._ I- I didn’t mean to-”

He falls onto Hyojong’s lap, burying his face in his own arms, and he can hear his small sobs already, body trembling with every shaky breath that he sucks in. Hyojong feels guilty, because he had a part in it too, because Hyunggu wouldn’t have even suggested the idea if Hyojong hadn’t talked to him about it, because he knows all too well how it feels to be blamed for something you didn’t mean to do, for just trying to help. So he reaches out to rub his back in slow circles, hoping that it’ll bring him some comfort, calming him down as best as he can.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” Hyojong tells him, voice soft, soothing. “I know you just wanted Wooseok to be happy. And Yuto knows it too. He might be upset now, but… He knows it, and he’ll come around soon.”

“But what if he doesn’t?”

Hyojong breathes out, long, tired, feeling like he’s been sent back to the past, like he’s stuck in that endless mission all over again. And he wonders if there was a reason for this, a reason he was sent here, a reason he found them again. He wonders if this is his chance to do it over, to do it the right way. And he wants to, wants to help them the way he was supposed to, to help them find their love again.

So he asks Hyunggu, “Do you love him?”

His words are mumbled, but he says, “Of course I do.”

“And does he love you?”

Hyunggu lifts his head, nose red, eyes watery. “I- I mean, yeah, but-”

“Then it’ll work out,” Hyojong tells him, clear cut, the way it should’ve been from the start.

The boy doesn’t look convinced that it would be that easy, sitting upright, brows pulling together, so Hyojong says, “This friend of mine once told me that if two people love each other, then no matter what happens, no matter how long it takes, it’ll all work out. It’ll all be worth it.” He smiles at him. “You’ll see.”

Hyojong thinks he sees the barest flash of recognition behind Hyunggu’s eyes, like the memory of them sitting side by side like this, speaking these same words, had just come back to him, sparking something in him. But he knows that’s not possible. He knows Hyunggu could never remember.

“Sounds like a great friend,” Hyunggu says then, finally letting himself smile just a tiny bit, and Hyojong’s smile widens too, teeth flashing bright.

“Yeah, he is.” He slings an arm around Hyunggu’s shoulders, careful to watch his boundaries, and he says, “Just give it some time, kid. You two will work things out. I’m sure of it. Okay?”

Hyunggu nods, leaning into him a little, looking a bit more at ease now, like he has hope again, and Hyojong wonders if it means that he’s done it right this time. He hopes he has. It’s the least he could do.

“Yuto was right anyway,” Hyunggu sighs, sounding less defensive than before, like he’s accepted that maybe Yuto wasn’t being so unreasonable after all. Hyunggu was a stubborn one, that’s for sure, but at the end of it, he knew when to admit fault. He always did. “I should’ve known that Hwitaek-hyung wouldn’t bother with Wooseok. Not when you’re right there.”

That makes Hyojong go still, his arm stiff as he slowly inches away from Hyunggu, looking at him with wide eyes, and Hyunggu is quick to say, “No! No, I- I’m not blaming you, hyung. Not at all. I’m just _saying,_ I mean, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

“What’s obvious?” Hyojong’s voice comes out hoarse, squeaky, throat tight all of a sudden.

Hyunggu’s eyebrows raise slowly. “That Hwitaek-hyung likes you…”

A laugh spills out of Hyojong’s mouth before he can help it, awkward, embarrassed, and- “What are you talking about? Hwitaek? L-Likes me? _No._ No, no, no. Nope.” He shakes his head, once, firm. “It’s not like that.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Hyunggu looks like he’s genuinely confused, like he knew for a fact that Hwitaek did like Hyojong, that there was no other explanation for it. “Have you seen him when he’s around you? He’s like the sun, but a million times brighter.”

Hyojong feels his face grow hot, looking away, the grass suddenly awfully interesting, and there’s a smile threatening to form on his lips, but he forces it down, because _no._ Hwitaek doesn’t like him. Not like that. Why would anyone even think that? Sure, he enjoys Hyojong’s company to the point that he even keeps him around when he’s asleep, and yeah, he likes to tease and flirt with Hyojong every now and then, and alright, he wears Hyojong’s ring on his finger like it’s his pride and joy and-

_Fuck._

Does Hwitaek really like him? The way Hyojong likes him? So much that Hyunggu has noticed? That Yuto must’ve already noticed to know that it wouldn’t work out with Wooseok? And Hyojong wants to believe it, wants to let himself think that Hwitaek does like him, but… He can’t. He shouldn’t. Because there’s no way that Hwitaek would like him, not the way that Hyojong wants him to.

“Hyojong-hyung?” Hyunggu pokes his arm, grabbing his attention again, and his face is scrunched up in guilt when he turns to him, saying, “I’m sorry if I made things weird, it’s just… I thought you knew. I thought- I thought you liked him too.”

Hyojong must’ve frozen up again, because Hyunggu’s eyes bulge out of his head, mouth falling open. “You _do_ like him?”

He tries to deny it, but the words get caught in his throat, stuck, unmoving, unwilling. And the way he ducks his head is enough of an answer for Hyunggu, an understanding, “Ah…” leaving his lips.

“Well, if you were worried that he doesn’t like you back, don’t be,” Hyunggu starts, already perking up, voice encouraging. “He likes you, okay? Believe me.” To prove his point, he says, “Hwitaek-hyung is a good guy, he’s got lots of friends, gets along with everyone. But… He’s never gotten along with anyone as well as he does with you. You two just… _click._ ”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“I meant it when I said he’s a million times brighter when he’s with you, hyung,” Hyunggu cuts in before Hyojong can speak, so persistent, so convincing. “He’s happier. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy before.”

Hyojong would be lying if he said that didn’t make his heart skip a beat, the idea of him being Hwitaek’s happiness, the happiness that he wanted to find for himself, that he thought he would find in Hwitaek. And it’s nice, to hear all these things, to pretend that he could have it, could have him. It’s nice, but it’s not real. As much as Hyojong wants it to be, it could never be real.

“He and I would never happen,” Hyojong says, quiet, low, like if he didn’t say it out loud, he could still pretend that they could happen, somehow, some way. “We just wouldn’t.”

“Why not?” Hyunggu almost scoffs, like he can’t understand why Hyojong would give up something like this when it’s right there in front of him. “I mean, it’s perfect, isn’t it? You and him, here, now. There must’ve been a reason you transferred here of all places, hyung. At a time when Hwitaek-hyung needed you the most. It- It’s destiny.”

 _Destiny._ Hyojong almost laughs. If only Hyunggu knew that so-called destiny came in the form of a piece of paper that told Hyojong what to do, where to go. If only he knew that was what had brought him to Hyunggu once upon a time too. These humans, they’re so silly, so naive, so ready to believe in the magic that isn’t really there.

And if only Hyojong could believe in that magic too, could let himself accept that this was his destiny, that he and Hwitaek could happen, somehow, some way. It would be perfect, wouldn’t it? The right place, the right time, but…

Hyojong smiles, sad, not quite reaching his eyes. And he says, “I’m not the right person for him, Hyunggu. I never will be.”

—

It was the right place. The community centre that Hongseok had let him to that first day, that grand piano sat in the middle of the lobby, the perfect setting.

It was the right time. Just past eight on a Sunday morning, right when Hwitaek had finished playing, when the crowd had left him on his own.

But Hyojong wasn’t the right person.

“You’re Hwitaek, right?”

Hwitaek looks up, surprised, eyes wide and lips parted, like the first time they’d met, and even now, Hyojong still feels his knees go weak.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Hwitaek says, and everything is too familiar, too real, like an old film being played over and over, stuck in a loop. “Who’s asking?”

Hyojong wasn’t the right person. He’s still not the right person. He’ll never be the right person.

“Shinwon,” the man answers, and he smiles, offering a hand, one that Hyojong couldn’t offer back then, one that Hwitaek takes, and this is it.

This is the right person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh finally he's here... our last character... heh i hope you all liked this chapter even tho it was kinda emo as always and uhhh this story is probably coming to an end soon? probably... 
> 
> oh also ! idk if y’all remember but in the first chap, hyojong said that he just got back from his last mission aka hyunggu, but since time moves faster on earth, for hyunggu it’s already been a year since then, but for hyojong it was only like a week if that makes sense..?
> 
> but yea feel free to leave me your thoughts in the comments or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ao3kino)/[cc](https://curiouscat.me/ao3kino) i'd really appreciate it!!! ♡


	8. “what do you really want?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so sorry this update took a while and that its so short hhhh i kinda put it off for a while bc it made me too emo and i didn’t wanna write it and also i’m posting this from my phone bc i can’t get to my laptop right now so i’m sorry if there’s any mistakes i’ll read it over and fix it later but anyway yeah ok so the storm as promised xoxoxo

Shinwon is everything that Hyojong isn’t.

He doesn’t have to flinch away whenever Hwitaek reaches out to touch him, doesn’t have to hesitate to return the gesture. He just takes his hand when it’s offered to him, puts his arms around him whenever, wherever he likes.

He doesn’t have to follow Hwitaek around like some kind of stalker, doesn’t have to pretend to bump into him in random places. He just happens to show up here and there, immediately becoming a familiar, friendly face to him.

He doesn’t have to panic when he meets Hwitaek’s friends, doesn’t have to worry about a dark past coming back to haunt him. He just laughs when he finds out that he’s been transferred into Yuto’s class, gets along with them easily like they’ve been friends for years.

He doesn’t have to play dumb. He doesn’t have to lie straight through his teeth about anything and everything. He doesn’t have to fake his way into Hwitaek’s life, not the way Hyojong did.

He’s real, he’s right, he’s everything that Hyojong isn’t, everything that Hyojong wants to be.

And Hyojong hates it. Hyojong hates him.

Hongseok notices it, of course he does, and Hyojong shouldn’t be surprised when the ghost comes over to him as he’s watching Hwitaek and Shinwon have another piano lesson, a knowing glint in his eye, letting out a low whistle.

“Man, I thought it was bad enough when you had to watch Hwitaek with Wooseok, but this…” He carefully picks out how tightly Hyojong’s jaw is set, how his nails are digging into his own skin, how his wings twitch with irritation every time Shinwon leans in too close to Hwitaek. “This is another level.”

He takes a step back when Hyojong turns to him with a scowl, eyes as dark as night, and he almost laughs, saying, “God, look at you… Take away those pretty wings and pop a couple of horns on your head, and you’ll be all set.”

Hyojong is too tired to fight him this time, settling for just muttering a few crude words under his breath and making a point of rolling his eyes back as far as he can.

“Not even gonna try to punch me?” Hongseok chimes, trying to lighten up the mood, but Hyojong just looks away, gaze drawn back to the two by the piano as if silently staring at them will magically make them jump apart, will somehow make Hwitaek come back to him.

He gives up with a defeated sigh, letting his arm settle around Hyojong’s shoulders, and he starts to say, “Look, I know you don’t like this-”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hyojong cuts in with a weak scoff, trying to shrug out of his hold, but it’s no use.

Hongseok ducks his head to give him a flat look, like he’s trying to say that he’s not fooling anyone, especially not him, and it doesn’t take long before Hyojong caves in, slumping against him, his sorrow written all over his face.

“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” Hongseok says then, no more teasing in his tone. “To find his match, to finish the job, to go home.”

“It was,” is Hyojong’s honest answer, because he’s tired of lying, to himself, to his friends, to everyone. “When I first came down here, that’s all I wanted. To go home. But now, I’m not so sure anymore.” He seems to falter, voice growing smaller. “I’m not sure if there’s even a home to go back to.”

“So, what?” Hongseok sounds conflicted, uncertain, like he wants to believe that Hyojong will stay, that he won’t leave him, but he doesn’t want to get his hopes up, doesn’t want to be disappointed again. “You don’t- You don’t wanna go back anymore?”

“I don’t know!” Hyojong sits upright again, frustration building up in him, stirring in his gut, burning up, up, up. A part of him almost says yes, almost says that he wants nothing more than to stay on this stupid planet forever, to stay with him, with Hwitaek, with everyone. But a part of him yearns to go back home, to be with his brothers, to find himself again, to remember who he is, what he is. “I- I don’t know if I wanna stay, or go, or if I even wanna finish this stupid job. I don’t know if any of this is even worth it. I just- I don’t fucking know, okay?”

Hongseok is quiet then, not the kind of quiet that he fell into when he didn’t know what to say, but rather the kind that told Hyojong he did have something on his mind, but he was afraid to say it, afraid of what the answer might be.

Hyojong knows him well enough to understand that now, he’d understood it back then too, that first day that he came.

 _You don’t really love him, do you?_ Hongseok had asked, that same hesitancy in him that Hyojong senses now, that same fear that Hyojong would give him an answer that neither of them would like.

 _No, I don’t love him,_ Hyojong had said, but he lied. He lied and lied and lied, and he really is so tired of lying.

So when Hongseok finally lets himself ask, “What do you really want, Hyojong?” Hyojong decides that this time, he isn’t going to lie anymore. Not to himself, not to his friends, not to anyone.

And Hyojong looks at Hwitaek, his Hwitaek, him alone, and he says, “ _Him._ I just want him.”

—

Hyojong can’t bring himself to watch them anymore, can’t quite handle the neverending prickle of jealousy in his heart every time Shinwon so much as looks at Hwitaek a moment longer than he needs to.

And he gets it, he gets what Shinwon sees in Hwitaek, gets what has him so smitten already, because after all, Hyojong had seen the same thing. He’d fallen for him just as quickly, just as easily, because it was him. _Hwitaek._ So perfect, so pure. The right person for anyone. Anyone except Hyojong.

Still, he can’t watch them, can’t trust that he won’t just haul Shinwon’s ass into that lake and make him drown if he decides to keep acting like he can’t just keep his hands to himself.

Hongseok refuses to watch them too, claiming that he’s done doing Hyojong’s job for him, that if Hyojong won’t put up with it, then neither will he. Really, Hyojong thinks he’s just worried he’ll see something real between them, worried that he’ll have to tell Hyojong that this time, it is right, finally right.

He can’t ask Hyunggu for help either, because the kid has decided that he’s taking Hyojong’s side on this, going on about how Hwitaek should just be with Hyojong, how Shinwon just ruined everything when he came along. It’s sweet, Hyojong thinks, and despite everything, it pulls a little laugh out of him when he notices Hyunggu giving Shinwon a rather unsubtle glare whenever he comes near Hwitaek.

It’s sweet, but it means that Hyojong will have to get his answers from Hwitaek himself after all, that he’ll have to actually hear him talk about Shinwon, what he’s like, how he feels about him, whether he’s the right one or not. And Hyojong is afraid that he’ll just buy into whatever Hwitaek says, the way he did with Jinho, with Wooseok. He’s afraid that he’s become too much of a fool for him, that he’ll believe anything Hwitaek wants to believe, anything at all.

But he’s more afraid that this time, he won’t have to be fooled. He’s afraid that this time, it might be the truth, Hwitaek might really like him, and Hyojong will just have to believe that too.

He tells himself it won’t hurt if he’s already expecting it, already sees what’s coming. He tells himself that it doesn’t make his ears sting when Hwitaek goes on about how Shinwon is funny, the kind of funny that always put people in a good mood, that made people want to laugh out loud. He tells himself that it doesn’t make his skin crawl when Hwitaek comments on how Shinwon is handsome, tall, that he could be a model if he wanted, that he could be anything, really. He tells himself that it doesn’t make his chest ache when Hwitaek talks about how Shinwon is sweet, kind, even though he pretends he isn’t, that he actually cares a lot.

He tells himself that it doesn’t break his heart when Hwitaek says, “I think he’s perfect.”

“So, you think he’s the right one?” Hyojong asks, and he knows what the answer will be. He knows, and again, he tells himself it won’t hurt, because he’s expecting it, because he sees what’s coming.

But then Hwitaek says, “No, he isn’t,” and Hyojong doesn’t know anything more.

“What do you mean he isn’t?” Hyojong almost scoffs the words, like he’s in disbelief, like he can’t believe this is happening all over again. How many times are they going to have to go through this? How many times is Hwitaek going to torture him like this? Going back and forth with people like they’re toys, all while Hyojong has to watch, unsure where he stands in the midst of it all?

He doesn’t know what it is that Hwitaek wants. He doesn’t know what he himself wants. He thought he did, but… He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know.

“You just said he was perfect-”

“He _is_ perfect, but-”

“But _what?_ ” Hyojong cries out, grasping onto Hwitaek’s shoulders, as if that’ll smack some sense into him. “What now? What’s the problem?”

Before Hwitaek can even open his mouth to answer, Hyojong does it for him, telling him, “You know what the problem is? The problem isn’t that you’re not loved, Hwitaek.” He sucks in a long breath through gritted teeth, and the truth tastes bitter as he breathes it out. “The problem is that you won’t let yourself be loved.”

Hwitaek blinks at him, eyes going glassy, and he seems to have run out of words, nothing but heavy silence leaving his parted lips.

“You… You’re everything anyone could ever want,” Hyojong starts, and he knows he should stop before he says something he shouldn’t, but he’s _tired._ So, so tired. Tired of keeping everything in, of hiding all these stupid fucking feelings, of letting it consume him. “You’re smart, you’re talented, you’ve got a heart of pure fucking gold.” His hands slide up to Hwitaek’s neck before he can help it, thumbs resting on the gentle lines of his jaw, itching to just run over his trembling lips. “And you’re beautiful. So beautiful. The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

Now, looking at him again, Hwitaek, his Hwitaek, Hyojong is sure of it. Hyojong wants him, he does, he really does. But what he wants and what he can have are two different things, and as much as he wants Hwitaek, he can’t have him. Not now, not ever.

So, no, he’ll never get what he wants, never get his happiness, but that doesn’t mean that Hwitaek shouldn’t.

“People would do anything to get just a minute of your time, if you’d just let them. If you’d just give them a chance, give _yourself_ a chance.” Hyojong’s hold on him tightens, like he’s trying to get his message across, trying to make him understand, and he manages a shaky smile. “Give yourself a chance, Hwitaek. Give Shinwon a chance. You said it yourself, he’s perfect-”

“He _is_ perfect,” Hwitaek says again, the same way he did earlier, and Hyojong already hears the ‘but’ coming, wondering how nothing he’d said had gotten through to him, wondering what else could be the problem here. “He’s perfect, but…”

But this, but that. But, but, but. But _what?_

“But he’s not you, Hyojong.”

Hyojong’s grip falters, slipping off of Hwitaek as his knees give out, almost stumbling back because no, he didn’t hear that right, did he? He couldn’t have. There was no way.

“What… What did you just say?”

His voice has already gone hoarse, and before his body gives up on him too, Hwitaek catches his face between his palms, keeping him upright, still, giving him no choice but to look right at him.

“He’s not you. None of them were you,” Hwitaek says, his voice only a murmur, like he’s speaking only for Hyojong to hear, his words trapped in the sliver of space between them. It’s his turn to offer a smile, the tips of his fingers gently tracing the dusting of dots on Hyojong’s cheeks, like faded constellations on his soft skin. “And it has to be…”

“ _You._ ”

Hwitaek breathes out that last word against his mouth as his open lips find Hyojong’s, fitting against them easily, like they were meant to be there, like they were meant for Hyojong alone. And Hwitaek kisses him like he’s never kissed him before, hungry and eager, fingers digging into his skin like he’s scared to let go, like if he lets go, then he’ll lose Hyojong forever. Hwitaek kisses him like he’s kissed him a million times over, comfortable and familiar, tongue twisting and touching like he knows just what to do, like he’s been doing this with Hyojong forever. Hwitaek kisses him, and Hyojong kisses him back; hungry, eager, comfortable, familiar, all at once. Hyojong kisses him again, like he’s been wanting to ever since that first time. Hyojong kisses him, and he wants to kiss him forever.

“It’s you, Hyojong,” Hwitaek says once they’re forced to break apart, to let themselves breathe, and his hands are still on Hyojong, forehead against his, gazes locked. “It’s always been you. You’re the right one.”

And Hyojong understands it now, what it is that Hwitaek wants, what he’s really wanted this entire time. But what he wants and what he can have are two different things, and as much Hwitaek he wants Hyojong, he can’t have him. Not now, not ever.

Hyojong reaches up for his hands, pulls them off of him like they burned, and he doesn’t miss the hurt that flashes across Hwitaek’s features when he lets them go.

He wants this, he wants them, he wants to be the right one, the one that Hwitaek wants, but he can’t. He just can’t, so he says, “You’re wrong. I’m not the one.”

—

“Hey! Where are you going?”

Hyojong hears Hongseok’s voice call out to him, his friend appearing behind him as soon as he bursts out of the apartment building. And when he feels Hongseok’s hand fall heavy on his shoulder, it all feels a little too surreal. It feels like he’s being yanked right back to that first day, that day where he’d walked away from Hwitaek, where Hongseok had chased after him. The day it all went wrong. Everything was wrong. So, so wrong.

“Hyojong, _stop._ ” Hyojong had forgotten how strong he was, and it doesn’t take much for him to turn Hyojong around so that they’re facing each other, that same confusion painted on his face, just like back then. “What are you doing? Why did you leave?”

“He kissed me,” Hyojong says, wiping at his mouth with his sleeve as though that would erase what they’d done.

“I know.”

“He _wants_ me.”

“I _know,_ ” Hongseok nods, and it looks like he’s trying to understand why Hyojong is saying it like it’s a bad thing. “That’s what you want too, isn’t it? You want him, and- and now, you know that he wants you too. So why-”

Hyojong’s head shakes a little too roughly, as if that’ll rid his mind of what had happened back there, their kiss, his words, _everything._

“No. He- He doesn’t know what he wants, okay?” he insists, trying to convince himself that the entire thing had just been another one of Hwitaek’s tricks, another trap that Hyojong had fallen into. A fool for him, fooled, yet again. “He’s just _confused-_ ”

“He’s not confused, he’s in love!” Hongseok tells him, wondering how Hyojong can’t see it when it’s clear as day, when even someone like him can see it. “I’m dead, not blind. I know love when I see it, Hyojong, even if you don’t.”

Hyojong tries to push him off, head still shaking, because he’s tired of being fooled, being lead on, by him, by Hwitaek, even Hyunggu, all of them getting his hopes up for nothing, making him believe that anything could ever come of this, of them.

And who is Hongseok to talk to him about love anyway? Hongseok who has never loved, who has never been loved. He wouldn’t know love if it was staring him in the face.

“You don’t know the first thing about love,” Hyojong almost spits at him, finally breaking out of his hold, stepping back. “And I told you, didn’t I? I told you you’d see what love is really like once we got to the end of this.” He can already feel blood rush to his head, feels his eyes grow wet, hot, and he throws his arms out, his voice cracked, strained. “Well, this is it! This is love. It’s stupid, and it’s painful, and you’re fucking lucky that you’ll never have to feel it.”

There’s pain in Hongseok’s eyes right then, like Hyojong’s words had been a smack in the face, a wake up call. Like he’s hurt, but only because he knows it’s the truth.

“You’re right,” Hongseok says then, his voice small, broken. “I’ll never get a chance to love, to be loved. Not anymore. But _you._ ” His pain turns into frustration, his own eyes burning red when he comes forward to grab at Hyojong’s shirt, his grip almost desperate. “You’re throwing it away when it’s right there for you to take.”

It’s right there. Hwitaek is right there. He’s always been right there.

“But that’s the thing, isn’t it?” Hyojong voices, growing weak against Hongseok, arms falling limp at his sides like he’s finally given up. “It’s not mine to take. It was never mine to take.”

Yanan was wrong. It wasn’t Hwitaek who was ruining Hyojong, confusing him. It was Hyojong who did it. It was always Hyojong. It was Hyojong who was using Hwitaek, taking advantage of his kindness, his vulnerability. It was Hyojong who played along with his silly advances, who built this stupid fantasy where it could just be the two of them for the rest of their lives. It was Hyojong who gave him exactly what he wanted, what he was looking for, longing for, so much that he refused to want anything else, anyone else.

It was Hyojong who fooled Hwitaek, who fooled himself, and he really wishes he hadn’t.

“So, what are you gonna do?” Hongseok asks him, all the heat from before already drained out of him as he moves to circle his arms around Hyojong, holding him close. “What do you want now?”

Hyojong looks up at him, eyes starting to water again, bottom lip almost shaking as he speaks. “Y-You’re not mad at me?”

Hongseok should be, he really should, because what Hyojong had said to him was awful, cruel, but…

“I told you, didn’t I?” Hongseok says, giving him a weak smile, as much as he can manage. “I told you that whatever happens, I’ve got your back.” He hugs Hyojong tighter, smile lifting even more. “Whatever you want to do, wherever you want to go, I’ve got you.”

When Hyojong lets out a sob, burying his face into Hongseok’s chest, wrapping his own arms around his middle, Hongseok realises Hyojong was wrong.

Hongseok has loved, has been loved. He has felt love. He feels it right now. It’s not the same kind of love that Hyojong feels for Hwitaek, that Hwitaek feels for him, but it’s still love. He loves Hyojong, and as much as the angel tries to hide it with his joking and his teasing, he knows that Hyojong loves him too.

His friend, his only friend, his best friend. His Hyojong. The one who has his back, just as much as Hongseok has his.

He knows he doesn’t have any power, doesn’t have the means to make much of a difference here, but whatever he can do for Hyojong, he’ll do it. Because all Hongseok ever wanted was to not be alone, to have someone, anyone, and Hyojong gave him that, gave him more than he could ever imagine. So, whatever Hyojong wants, Hongseok will give it to him too.

And again, Hongseok asks him, “What do you really want, Hyojong?”

But neither of them get a chance to hear the answer, because a voice calls out for Hyojong right then, a voice that has become all too familiar to Hongseok now.

Hyojong is quick to recognise it too, and he steps out of Hongseok’s embrace, wiping away traces of his tears before he turns to Changgu, mustering up whatever strength he has left to stand up straighter.

“I don’t need a lecture right now,” Hyojong begins to say, but Changgu stops him with a shake of his head, his delicate features set into serious lines.

“I’m not here to lecture you,” Changgu tells him honestly, but before Hyojong can even feel a touch of relief, he says, “I’m here to take you home.”

Hyojong feels his stomach drop at his words, mouth going dry, because _what?_ Take him home? Now?

“No-”

“It’s gone too far, Hyojong,” Changgu tries to explain, and he doesn’t sound upset, angry. If anything, he sounds guilty. “I let it get too far. I- I should’ve taken you back as soon as he found out what you were-”

No, no, no, no, no-

“ _No._ You can’t,” Hyojong cries, his breathing growing short, like the air around him is running out. “I- I can fix it. Just give me some time, I’ll fix it. I swear-”

“The Council already knows.” The words rush out of Changgu so quickly that Hyojong thought he’d heard it wrong. “They know everything.”

Hyojong starts to back away from him, refusing to accept what he’s hearing, because how could Changgu do this to him? He, of all people, should understand how Hyojong feels, should understand why he needs to stay, to finish the job.

“You said you wouldn’t tell them-”

“It wasn’t me.”

He freezes in his spot, body going numb from his feet, all the way up to his head, frozen, frozen, frozen, and-

“ _Yanan._ ”

When Changgu nods in answer, confirming his suspicions, Hyojong lets out a broken sound, hands coming up to claw at his own face. He knew Yanan wasn’t exactly happy with the way Hyojong was handling things down here, but he didn’t think he’d go as far as to rat him out to the Council like that, to ruin everything he’s worked for.

But there’s no other way out now, is there? If they already know, then Hyojong has no choice but to go.

“Let me say goodbye to him,” Hyojong says, one last wish, one last thing that he wants. “Just let me go say goodbye, then I’ll go with you.”

Hongseok turns to him in panic, like he can’t believe that Hyojong’s giving up this easily, his mouth already open to protest, but Changgu speaks first.

“Let’s just go, Hyojong,” is what he says, reaching for his arm, like he already knows what Hyojong is going to do, what he wants to do.

Hyojong grabs Changgu’s hand, tugging him close, and there’s a raw desperation in his voice that makes Changgu shiver when he whispers, “I want to do this. I need to do this. Please let me do this.” His gaze flickers over to Hongseok for just a moment, before it settles on Changgu again, sharp, knowing. “Tell me you didn’t do the same, and I won’t go.”

Changgu’s face seems to fall at the accusation, and the fact that he can’t seem to find any words is enough of an answer for Hyojong, giving him one last look before he lets go of him.

He’s too stunned to even move, but when he realises that Hyojong is running off, right back to Hwitaek, he starts to go after him, but Hongseok stands in his way, and Changgu lets out a small whimper.

“Get out of my way, Hongseok,” he tries to say, but it comes out faint, frail, and so are the hands that come up to beat against Hongseok’s chest. “ _Please,_ I can’t let him-”

“What did he mean by that?” Hongseok asks, refusing to budge, and he isn’t that much taller than Changgu, but right then, it’s almost like he’s towering over him, staring him down. “What did you do?”

Another choked up sound escapes Changgu’s lips, the words spilling out of his mouth before he can help it. “It was a mistake. It was all a mistake. I shouldn’t have-”

“Shouldn’t have _what?_ ” Hongseok grabs him by the shoulders to pull him together, worry, fear beginning to rise in him. “What the hell did you do, Changgu?”

Changgu shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but he looks at Hongseok, his Hongseok, and he knows he has to. He needs to at least try.

And he reaches up towards Hongseok’s head, the ghost startled by the sudden movement, taking a step back.

“What are you-”

“Your hair isn’t actually grey,” Changgu tells him, and before Hongseok can even ask what he means, Changgu taps the middle of his head, his fingertips suddenly feeling oddly familiar against Hongseok’s skin.

And it happens so quickly that even Changgu is surprised, a small gasp leaving his lips as the grey seems to lift off of his head in tiny sparkles, leaving behind the black hair that suited him a lot better. A small ring forms from the sparks, floating above him, glowing, bright. _A halo._ Changgu’s halo. Or, at least, a piece of it. A piece of him.

“I gave you the most important part of me,” Changgu says then, his mouth lifting in a sad smile. “And I left you. I had no choice but to leave.” His hands latch onto Hongseok’s face, palms fitting against him perfectly. “But I came back. I came back to you.”

It seems to click then, a flicker of understanding in Hongseok’s eyes, realisation settling in him.

_Well, are you going to go back to him?_

_I already have. He doesn’t remember me._

“Now, I need you to remember me,” Changgu whispers, before he closes the space between them, pressing his lips against Hongseok’s.

He’s only kissed Hongseok once before, on the night that he’d died, the night he’d given him a piece of his halo, in hopes that he’d remember him, someday, somehow.

At the time, Hongseok had been too tired, too sick, to kiss him back, but Changgu didn’t mind it. He just wanted to make him feel it, make him feel loved, at least once in his life.

“I remember you,” Hongseok breathes out when they pull apart, his eyes squeezed shut, like he’s afraid that if he opens them, then everything will become real. “I remember everything now.”

_And when he remembers that I left him, what happens then?_

_If he loved you too, then maybe he’d understand._

Changgu just wanted to make him feel loved, he hopes he felt loved, he hopes Hongseok loved him too.

Hongseok has loved, has been loved. He has felt love. More than he knew. He remembers it now. It was the same kind of love that Hyojong feels for Hwitaek, that Hwitaek feels for him. Stupid love, painful love, he’s felt it all.

Hongseok reaches up for his hands, pulls them off of him like they burned, and he doesn’t miss the hurt that flashes across Changgu’s features when he lets them go.

He has loved and been loved. He has felt love, with Changgu, so long ago. But he doesn’t feel it now, not anymore. He doesn’t feel it at all, so he says, “You’re right. It was a mistake.”

—

Hyojong feels like an idiot.

No matter how much he tries to convince himself otherwise, no matter how much he knows he shouldn’t, there’s still nothing he wants more than Hwitaek. It’s all he wants, all he needs. Still the biggest fool for him, only him.

He’s agreed to leave, he knows that, and he will. He has to. He’ll go home, but he didn’t say anything about staying there.

It’s simple, isn’t it? He wants Hwitaek, and the only way he can have him is if he’s here. So he has to come back, someday, somehow. He has no idea how he’s going to make that happen, but what he knows for sure is that he needs Hwitaek to remember him.

And when Hwitaek practically flings himself onto Hyojong as soon as he opens the door to their home, crying out his name, Hyojong thinks that maybe Hwitaek is just as much of a fool for him too.

“I thought you were gone!” Hwitaek says through his sobs, hugging Hyojong so tightly that he can barely find the air to breathe. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

Hyojong feels an ache in his chest when he puts his arms around Hwitaek, a hand coming up to cradle the back of his head, the other running up and down his back.

“I-”

He doesn’t get a chance to explain himself, Hwitaek blabbering out his apologies into Hyojong’s shoulder, saying, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. If I knew it’d upset you that much, I wouldn’t have-”

Hyojong pulls away from him, taking his face in his hands instead, thumbs instinctively wiping away the streaks of tears on his cheeks, heart hurting even more when he sees how red his eyes already are. He really hates seeing him cry, hates it even more because he knows that he’s crying because of Hyojong.

“Hey, hey.” He keeps his voice as gentle as he can, breathing out slowly. “I’m not upset, okay? It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have run away like that. I just… I panicked.”

Hwitaek nods in his hold, still sniffling. “But you’re not gonna run from me again, right?”

“Hwitaek…” Hyojong wants to smile, but he can’t bring himself to. “I have to go. They won’t let me stay.”

“ _No._ No, please, no, you can’t-” He clasps his hands over Hyojong’s, like he’s trying to force him to stay right there, to never let him go. “I’ll do anything. _Please._ I- I’ll go with Shinwon, with anyone, I don’t care. But, please, don’t leave me.”

Hyojong tries to slip his hands away, but Hwitaek just tightens his grip, refusing to let go, tears welling up yet again.

“You said you’d be here as long as I need you, as long as I want you.” Hwitaek looks at him, and there’s no more tricks, no more traps, nothing but truth in his eyes. “I still want you, Hyojong.”

Hyojong wants to tell him that he still wants him too, that he’s never wanted anything more than this, them, but he can’t. He can’t stay, not now, not yet.

They’re waiting for him, he can already feel Changgu behind him, ready to take him away, to take Hwitaek’s memories away.

“You’re going to forget me,” he says, and Hwitaek is quick to deny it, insisting, “I won’t-”

But Hyojong just smiles, tugging his hands away, only to take one of Hwitaek’s hands in his, his slender fingers more than familiar to him now, that ring of his resting right where it belongs.

“You will, you have to,” he tells him, and he lifts his hand up to his mouth, bringing the ring to his lips, placing a small kiss against it. “You’ll forget me, but I need you to remember.”

“I don’t understand-”

“Just remember me,” are the last words that Hyojong says to Hwitaek, his last wish, the last thing that he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am... so sorry..... i only have one more chapter planned but if it turns out too long i might split it into two.. we’ll see ! you know where to find me [twitter](https://twitter.com/ao3kino), [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/ao3kino)


	9. “can anyone hear me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof okay i know this is suuuuuuuper late it's been almost a month since i updated so i'm really sorry for that!!! i'm in the middle of my finals month so i haven't really had time to write.. i hope you all understand! and in the previous chapter notes i mentioned that i only had one more chapter planned but for those who don't follow me on twitter or didn't catch my tweet about it, i decided to split the final chapter up into two bc i wanted to separate the povs so this chapter is mainly from hwitaek/hongseok's perspective so it was pretty fun to write!! so yeah after this one there'll be the final chapter plus an epilogue and i'll try my best to get those done as soon as i can! sorry again for the late update but i hope you all enjoy this chapter!!!

Hwitaek can’t remember.

He doesn’t even know what it is that he’s supposed to remember, but he knows that he can’t remember it. He knows that there’s _something,_ he feels it poking at the back of his mind, begging for him to recall it, but he can’t. He just can’t.

And it’s been bothering him, making him feel restless, anxious, and surely it must be something important if it’s bugging him this much, but no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t fucking remember.

Had he forgotten to turn in an assignment? Was he supposed to meet up with someone? Did he leave the stove on?

He doesn’t know, he doesn’t remember, and it’s starting to drive him insane.

“Hyung?”

Hwitaek is pulled out of his thoughts when Shinwon waves a hand in his face, asking, “Are you alright? You seem a little out of it.”

If he was being honest, he’d completely forgotten that Shinwon was there, that they were in the middle of a piano lesson. He’d been too busy letting his worries eat away at him, leaving him empty, empty, empty.

He feels guilty for it, because he knows how much effort Shinwon puts into these lessons, how much he truly enjoys learning to play the piano, how much he appreciates Hwitaek’s teaching. But he can’t seem to find the energy to care, too caught up in trying to figure out what it is that he’s missing here.

Still, he offers an apologetic smile, telling him, “I’m fine. Sorry. Let’s get back to the lesson-”

Shinwon stops him with his hand on his, shuffling around to face him properly, and there’s worry tainting his features as he leans down to meet his eyes.

“Hyung, if there’s something bothering you, we can talk about it,” he says. “You don’t have to force yourself to keep going with the lesson if you’re not up for it.”

Hwitaek appreciates his concern, but he’d really rather not burden him with something as trivial as this, not wanting him to think that Hwitaek is so useless that he can’t even handle a tiny problem like this. And, really, he doesn’t even know _what_ the problem is, wouldn’t know what to tell Shinwon if he asked what was wrong.

So he just shakes his head, saying, “No, it’s nothing. I’m fine, really. We can just-”

“Hwitaek-hyung.” Shinwon’s hand tightens around his, and Hwitaek doesn’t miss the way he moves closer, even though there was barely any space between them to begin with. “Talk to me. Please.”

Hwitaek knows what he’s doing, knows that he’s probably heard all about his sad attempts at finding love with Jinho and Wooseok. He knows that this is probably Hyunggu and Yuto’s doing, knows that those two must’ve talked Shinwon into making a move on him. He knows that this is what he wants, this is what he’s been looking for, but he doesn’t know why he can’t bring himself to hold Shinwon’s hand back.

“Have you ever felt like you were missing something?” Hwitaek says then, his voice quiet in the vast room, only for Shinwon to hear. “But you can’t remember what it is.”

Shinwon’s face furrows in thought. “What, did you lose your phone or something?”

“No! No, it’s more, like- like you’re missing a part of you,” Hwitaek tries to explain, the words sounding ridiculous once he hears them out loud, but he just keeps going. “And you want to find it, but you just… You can’t remember what it is.”

He knows how it sounds, knows that he should’ve just kept his mouth shut, but it’s been tormenting him for far too long now, and he just wants someone to tell him that they understand, that he isn’t crazy, that he’ll find whatever it is that he’s looking for.

He just wants to know that he’ll remember. He has to remember.

“I don’t know what you’re missing,” Shinwon starts, his free hand coming up to cup the side of Hwitaek’s face, gaze falling to his mouth. “But if you’ll let me, I’ll help you forget all about it.”

No. _No._ Hwitaek doesn’t want to forget, and he doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want _him._ But Shinwon’s got him trapped there, strong hands on him, coming closer and closer and-

They jump apart when the piano lid slams shut, the loud bang echoing around them, and Hwitaek almost falls off the bench from the sudden shock, quickly steadying himself on his feet as far away from Shinwon as he can be.

And he doesn’t say it, but he’s grateful for the interruption, silently thanking whatever it is that had caused it.

“Hyung, are you-”

“I have to go,” Hwitaek says, grabbing his bag and heading straight for the door before Shinwon can even begin to move towards him, and _God._

He really needs to remember soon.

—

Hongseok feels the energy drain out of him as soon as he knocks the lid prop out of place, feeling like he’s fading as the sound of the crash rings in his ears, but it’s worth it when he sees Hwitaek escape, when he frees himself from this Shinwon guy and leaves him behind.

It’s worth it, but man, does it hurt. He’s not used to using his energy like this, to pull together enough force to move something solid, something real, but he had to.

He’d watched as Changgu took Hyojong away, watched as he stripped Hwitaek of his memories of him, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He’d just stood there and watched. And now, he’s stuck here, alone again, and he doesn’t know what to do.

The way Hyojong had left made it seem like he was planning to come back, but Hongseok has no idea how he’s going to do that. He doubts they’ll let him come back just because he wants to, and it’s not like Hongseok can march up to the gates of Heaven and demand them to return his friend to him.

And he can’t rely on the others either, because Hwitaek has forgotten, Hyunggu and Yuto have forgotten too, _everyone_ has forgotten Hyojong. Hongseok is the only one who remembers, but no one can hear him, no one can see him. No one knows what he knows.

Hyojong hadn’t exactly said it out loud, but it was pretty clear what he’d done. That night, that last goodbye, somehow, some way, he’d made sure that Hwitaek would remember him. Hongseok doesn’t know how he did it, because Hyojong himself had said that the ring wouldn’t be strong enough, but the angel has proven more than once that he’s capable of so much more than he lets on.

So if Hyojong wants Hwitaek to remember him, then Hongseok is going to do whatever he can to keep it that way.

He has no idea how long it’ll take for Hyojong to come back, has no idea if he’ll even come back at all, but Hongseok trusts him. He always has. He’s never been one to believe in miracles, especially not after all that he’d been through, but he has faith in Hyojong.

He’ll be back. He has to come back.

“You know, you’re not supposed to interfere with human affairs,” a voice says from behind him, and _fuck,_ this is not the angel that he wants to see right now.

“It’s none of your business,” Hongseok tells Changgu, not even bothering to turn around to face him. He doesn’t know if he has the strength to even look at him. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to hold himself back from punching him in the face.

“It isn’t yours either,” Changgu says, trying to reason with him. “You’re not a part of that world anymore.”

Hongseok runs his tongue over his teeth, his fists balling up so tightly, fingernails digging in so sharp, that if he were alive, it’d be enough to draw blood. It’d be enough to feel pain. And now that he remembers, all he wants is to feel pain again. To feel _something._ Because he’s upset, hurt, he knows he is. He’s angry, he should be angry, he should want nothing more than to tear Changgu apart for what he did to him, but he can’t. He can’t feel anything.

“Yeah, you made of sure of that, didn’t you?” Hongseok chimes, his voice stinging, because his words are all he has now.

Changgu breathes out heavy, and Hongseok doesn’t have to look to know that he’s itching to reach out for him, to touch him. He’d always been a clingy one. Back then, Hongseok liked it. He liked it a lot. But now…

“Please, just-” Changgu takes a step closer. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but you need to leave it alone, okay? You’re only going to make things worse.”

He almost laughs, because _worse?_ What could be worse than this? Hyojong is gone, his only friend, the only person who had actually given a shit about him, even if he was dead. Changgu is back, his only love, the only person who made him feel like he was worth something, only to rip it all to shreds.

The only thing that could be worse than this…

“What are you gonna do about it, huh?” Hongseok turns to him, a scowl painted on his lips. “Kill me again?”

Changgu’s eyes go red with tears, voice on the brink of breaking. “I didn’t kill you, Hongseok.”

“But you let me die!”

“You let yourself die!” Changgu cries out, and he can’t seem to stand it anymore, closing the gap between them, taking Hongseok’s hands in his. “I tried to help you, you know I did. But you wouldn’t let me. Why didn’t you let me?”

Hongseok tears his gaze away, looking at the ground, but he can’t seem to pull his hands out of Changgu’s, a guilty beat in his chest when he’s reminded how nice it is to hold his hands.

_I tried to help you. You wouldn’t let me. Why didn’t you let me?_

He knows the answer, he knows it’s a stupid fucking answer, and most of all, he knows it _was_ his own fault that he’d died. Changgu was right, he’d let himself die, he’d let himself rot away into nothing, he’d given up on himself, all while he hoped that Changgu wouldn’t.

“I thought…” Hongseok begins, still unable to look up, his hands betraying him, tightening around Changgu’s before he can stop them. “I thought if I just pretended it wasn’t there, it’d go away. I mean, it always goes away. It _should’ve_ gone away. But… It just didn’t, and I thought if I finally gave in to it, if I admitted that I was sick, then that would make it real. Too real. And there’d be no chance of it going away anymore.”

Changgu ducks his head to meet his eyes, and when Hongseok tries to turn away again, a hand reaches up to stop him, keeping him in place, giving him no choice but to look at Changgu.

“That’s not how things work, Hongseok,” Changgu says, his voice soft now, pitiful almost. “You know that.”

“I know,” he admits, pressing into Changgu’s touch, gentler, more forgiving than the other night. “I know, but I thought… I thought if I let myself be sick, really sick, if I was trapped in a hospital bed, if I became a fucking burden, then you’d leave me. I didn’t want you to leave me.” His eyes fall shut, breath shakes. “But you left me anyway.”

He feels Changgu’s hold falter for a second, too quick, before his forehead presses against Hongseok’s, both hands cupping his face now.

“But I came back,” Changgu whispers, desperate, pleading. “I came back to you, Hongseok. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Hongseok feels a sob threatening to break out of him, and he wants to say that it does, that it means the world to him that Changgu came back to him, that he still remembers him, that he still wants him. After all this time, Changgu still wants him.

But he bites it down, pushes it aside, wills it away. Because after all this time, he’s not sure if he’s the same person that Changgu wants. He’s not sure if he could ever be that person again. All these years of being alone, of being forgotten, somewhere along the way, Hongseok thinks he lost himself.

Then he found himself again. Or rather, he found Hyojong, and Hyojong found him. He’d always wondered why he couldn’t move on from this world, why he was just stuck here. He’d wondered if there was a reason for it, a bigger picture that he couldn’t see yet. And when Hyojong came along, he knew that was it. That was his purpose.

And now, it’s gone.

“You came back,” Hongseok says, pulling away from him, eyes opening, wet with tears that he can’t hold back now. “But you took Hyojong away.”

“I-” Changgu doesn’t seem to know what to say, doesn’t know how to explain himself. “I had to. I had _orders-_ ”

“Fuck your orders!” Hongseok yells, the ache in his heart burning up as he advances on Changgu, forcing the angel to back away from him. “I thought Hyojong was your friend. I thought- I thought he was your _brother._ How could you do that to him? You said it yourself, you’d never seen him that happy. He was _finally_ going to be happy, but you just…” Hongseok shakes his head, mouth curling in loathing. “You took it all away from him, Changgu.”

Hongseok’s words hit him like a slap in the face, and Changgu’s jaw goes slack, feeling all the strength drain from his body, unable to defend himself any longer. He knows that what he did was wrong, cruel, but what else could he do?

As much as he wanted Hyojong to be happy, to be loved, it just couldn’t happen. They both served a higher purpose, they had duties to fulfill, they were created for a reason. They weren’t made for this, for happiness, for love, for _humans._ It wasn’t for them. It was never for them.

And yet, Changgu had it all, once upon a time. He was happy, he was loved, he was human. Hongseok made him feel human, made him feel real, even if it was just for a little while. He thought that coming back here, coming back to him, would make him feel that way again.

Changgu wants to feel that way again.

He wants to be happy, he wants to be loved, he wants Hongseok. He’s always wanted Hongseok. But he doesn’t know how to get him back, doesn’t know how to make it go back to the way it was, how to make things _right._ Everything had gone wrong, with Hongseok, with Hyojong, with Yanan too. Everything was so, so wrong, and all Changgu wants is to make it right. So, he asks, “What do you want me to do?”

“Bring Hyojong back,” is Hongseok’s answer, three words that made it all seem so simple, as if it didn’t mean going against the Council, against his own principles, against everything he has ever believed in. As if he just knew that Changgu would do it, would do anything he asked. And Changgu thinks he would, he really would. Whenever, wherever, whatever, if Hongseok wanted it, Changgu would give it to him. He’d give him the whole world, and if Hyojong was part of that world, so be it.

See, Hongseok had always been Changgu’s biggest weakness, his Achilles heel, the one person who could unravel every little thing that made Changgu who he was, pulling him apart piece by piece. The one person who kept a piece of him, a part of him, and the only way Changgu could ever be complete again is if he has Hongseok by his side.

So he takes Hongseok’s hands once more, brings them up to the space where his heart beats, and he swears to him, “I’ll bring him back.”

But Changgu has no fucking clue how he’s going to do it.

—

“How do you two do it?” The words sound odd when they’re strung together that way, and before either of them can make a lewd joke out of it, Hwitaek rephrases himself, asking instead, “I mean, how are you two always so… _together?_ Like, you’re just so perfect for each other, all the time. How does that happen?”

Hyunggu glances up at Yuto from where his head is resting in his lap, exchanging a funny look with him before he turns to Hwitaek. “We literally just fought the other day, remember, hyung? We’re hardly perfect.”

“Well, I don’t know about this guy, but _I’m_ perfect,” Yuto jokes, hand cupped around his mouth as though he was pretending to whisper it to Hwitaek, and it earns him a sharp pinch on his side from Hyunggu, one that Yuto returns, the two boys erupting into a fit of giggles right there and then.

Hwitaek makes a show of rolling his eyes, but the fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth gives him away, and he lets out a rather dramatic sigh. “Please,” he huffs, lips pushing out into a pout to hide his smile. “You say you’re not perfect, then you go and do things like that.”

“Like what?” Hyunggu quips with feigned innocence, a cheeky grin twisting his lips, and he lets out a loud laugh when Hwitaek tells him, “I’m not gonna call you two cute, if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

Hyunggu sits up then, and Hwitaek watches as Yuto immediately stretches his legs apart so that Hyunggu can sit between them, his back pressing up against Yuto’s chest, Yuto’s arm falling around his shoulders. Hwitaek watches as they just fit into each other, like pieces of a puzzle, like they completed each other, and he sighs once more.

“See!” Hwitaek gestures at the whole scene in front of him, feeling the barest trace of envy pulse through him at the sight of the couple, wondering if he’ll ever find something like that for himself. “Perfect, again.”

Hyunggu opens his mouth like he’s about to deny it again, but he decides against it, noticing the way Yuto instinctively shifts just enough to let Hyunggu settle against him more comfortably, the way he breathes a lot easier when he feels Yuto’s familiar heartbeat behind him, the way that maybe they are as perfect as Hwitaek thinks they are.

“What’s this about, hyung?” he asks instead, reaching out to nudge his knee when Hwitaek lets his head hang low, a hint of knowing in his tone. “Is it Shinwon?”

The way Hwitaek almost snaps his neck with how quickly he looks up at the mention of the boy’s name should be more than enough of an answer for them, but he tries to brush it off anyway, spitting out a rather unconvincing, “What? No. Who is that?” He bites his tongue when he realises how that sounds. “I- I mean, not like- Of course I know who he is, I just- You know-”

“So… It is Shinwon,” Yuto concludes with a snort, and Hwitaek heaves a defeated breath, realising there’s no use in trying to hide it from them, not when they all know that they can read him like an open book.

“It is, but it isn’t, but it kinda is, but it’s still not-” Hwitaek doesn’t know where he’s going with it, doesn’t know what he’s trying to get at, his words hitting an abrupt stop, unsure what he actually wants to say.

Hyunggu and Yuto share another look that Hwitaek can’t quite decipher, a silent understanding passing between the two, before Hyunggu says, “You don’t like him.”

It isn’t a question, neither is it an accusation, it’s just… a statement, a fact, one that Hwitaek found difficult to admit out loud. Of course, to him, it was more than obvious that he didn’t return the feelings that Shinwon had for him, not even a little. But he could never bring himself to confess it to the boy, to tell him that he felt nothing for him, in fear that it would hurt him. He couldn’t find the courage to say anything about it to Hyunggu and Yuto either, feeling guilty after all they’d done for him, not wanting to disappoint them yet again. See, they’d been the ones to encourage him to go after Jinho, Hyunggu had set him up with Wooseok after that went awry, and now, Yuto’s been trying his best to get him and Shinwon together. After everything, Hwitaek didn’t have the heart to tell any of them that it just wouldn’t happen.

But it seems that with these two, he doesn’t have to say anything, his friends figuring him out like he’d had all his secrets written out on his forehead, like they could hear all the thoughts swimming around in his mind, like they just _knew._ And it makes him wonder if Shinwon knows too, if he can tell that Hwitaek isn’t interested in him, if he’s already hurt by him.

“It’s not that I _don’t_ like him,” Hwitaek starts to say, but he gives up as soon as he meets their pointed gazes, his mouth going dry from his lie. “Okay, look, I’m sorry, guys. He’s a great guy, he really is, but I just… I don’t know. I don’t feel it. I don’t- I don’t feel anything.”

“No, hyung, don’t be sorry,” Hyunggu is quick to tell him, and to show that there’s nothing that Hwitaek to apologise for, he offers a kind smile, as does Yuto. “It’s not your fault. You can’t force yourself to like someone.”

“Yeah, but-”

“No buts,” Yuto insists, shaking his head at him. “If you don’t like him, then you don’t. It’s okay, hyung.”

Hwitaek’s brows furrow together as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth, wondering if it really is okay, if they’re not just saying all this so he won’t feel bad. And again, even without speaking a single word, they pick up on what he’s thinking, Hyunggu breathing out a gentle laugh before he says, “If you’re worried that we’ll be upset, we’re not. We could never be upset with you, Hwitaekie-hyung. Especially not about something like this.”

“But… You guys have done so much for me, to try and find someone nice for me, to help me be happy-”

“Exactly. We want you to be happy, hyung,” Hyunggu says then, holding out a hand for him to take, and Yuto reaches for Hwitaek’s other hand, the three of them linked in a circle now. “We don’t want you to pretend to be happy for our sake. If Shinwon doesn’t make you happy, then that’s that. You don’t have to make yourself like him just for us. You don’t have to feel anything you don’t want to feel.”

Hwitaek still feels unsettled about the whole thing, but Yuto squeezes his hand, just once, and it’s enough to send a surge of reassurance through him, like he was saying everything Hyunggu had said in that touch alone, and Hwitaek supposes that’s how it is with them. Hyunggu always had his way with words, knowing just what to say, while Yuto was more of a silent comfort, always there to support him even when he didn’t know it. Hwitaek appreciates them both, in their own ways, and he knows that in one way or another, they’ll both be there for him.

And it’s that reason alone that allows him to admit, “I do want to feel something. But right now, here, with him, everything feels wrong.” Hwitaek’s head falls, staring at the ground as uncertainty, insecurity, swallows him up. “Or… Or maybe it’s right. Maybe everything is right, but I’m the one who’s wrong.”

“Hyung, don’t say that,” Hyunggu scolds, tugging on his hand, sharp, forcing him to look up again, and the boy looks hurt, as if Hwitaek had insulted him. “Don’t ever say that, okay? There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re _perfect,_ and I’d saw my whole arm off to prove it to you.”

“Me too,” Yuto chirps, then- “Maybe not my whole arm, though. Just a finger… nail.”

Despite the heavy pit in his gut, that makes Hwitaek smile, though it’s weak, faltering almost immediately, that flicker of amusement gone as quickly as it came. See, it’s easy to believe that they’re right, that there isn’t anything wrong with him, that it’s just not the right time, not the right place, not the right person. If he hears it enough, he’ll be able to convince himself that even though everything is wrong now, somehow, someday, it’ll be right.

Yet Hwitaek can’t help but feel like it _is_ right. Now, here, him, it’s all right. Everything is right, but there’s still something missing.

It’s only when Hyunggu asks, “What do you mean, hyung?” that Hwitaek realises he’d been voicing his thoughts aloud, making them wonder what he’s going on about.

And because it’s Hyunggu, it’s Yuto, his best friends, the ones who have always had his back, Hwitaek doesn’t hesitate when he tells them, “Lately I’ve been feeling like I’m missing something, but I can’t remember what it is. It’s like, I know I’m missing it, and I know it’s _there,_ somewhere in my mind, but I just can’t reach it. I can’t figure it out.”

Hyunggu can only offer a blank stare, just as clueless as he is, and if Hyunggu couldn’t find the words to say, Hwitaek doubts Yuto would.

But Yuto surprises them when he says, “Maybe you’re not missing something… Maybe you’re missing _someone._ ”

—

Hwitaek finds himself staring up at his ceiling later that night, sleep refusing to come to him, too busy turning Yuto’s words over and over in his head, trying to understand what he meant by that.

The younger hadn’t been very helpful about it, immediately growing shy after speaking out of turn, claiming that he was just talking nonsense. And despite being the one person who understood his boyfriend the best, Hyunggu couldn’t quite explain what Yuto was trying to convey either. After going back and forth about it, Yuto insisting that he meant nothing by it, that it was just a stray thought that came to mind, they’d just left it at that, the conversation quickly being forgotten by the two boys.

But Hwitaek couldn’t forget, and he still couldn’t remember anything either.

How could he miss someone? Who could he even miss? Sure, he misses his parents, and yeah, maybe he hasn’t called them in a while, but he doesn’t think that’s what Yuto had meant. And if he meant that maybe Hwitaek was missing someone the way he could miss something, then that just didn’t make any sense. People weren’t toys that he could misplace, they weren’t objects that he could pick up at a lost and found office, they couldn’t just go missing and take every memory of them away from him like that.

It isn’t possible, yet the impossibility of it all is what keeps him up at this ungodly hour, his vision beginning to blur as exhaustion finally begins to take over, pulling him down, down, down…

Hwitaek sees wings, he sees light, he sees warm eyes and a pretty smile, and he thinks this is it. He must be dying.

He waits for it, that faded montage of his life over the years, the one that people say flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die. He waits for it, but it never comes. Instead he sees those wings, that light, those eyes and that smile, again and again, over and over, like he was watching someone else’s life play out in front of him. Like it was trying to show him something, trying to make him see.

_Maybe you’re missing someone._

Someone, someone, someone, but _who?_ Hwitaek doesn’t understand what the wings are meant to be, doesn’t recognise the light that’s shining right at him, yet it feels like he knows those eyes and that smile.

He knows those eyes and that smile, and he can’t explain it, but he knows the laughter that echoes in his ears, he knows the voice that speaks along with it. He knows this person, but he can’t remember. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t-

_Just remember me._

Hongseok gasps when Hwitaek wakes, immediately clapping a hand over his mouth as if the guy could actually hear him, and he watches as Hwitaek catches his breath, sweat dotting his forehead, bloodshot eyes going wide.

The scene is familiar, he’s grown used to seeing Hwitaek yank himself out of nightmares this way, watching it happen almost every night since Hyojong had left, and yet, Hongseok is still startled by it.

Maybe because tonight, it seems different. Tonight, Hongseok could’ve sworn that somewhere between the ragged breathing and the mindless rambling, he’d heard Hwitaek cry out Hyojong’s name. Or maybe he’d just imagined it. Maybe he just wanted it to be true. Maybe he just wanted Hwitaek to remember.

He keeps himself still in the corner of the room as Hwitaek gets up to compose himself, to pull himself together, and Hongseok almost feels like he’s stuck in a memory. It’s all a little too familiar to him, waking up in cold sweats, feeling like he was losing his mind, right here in this exact same room.

Except, back then, Hongseok had Changgu. Changgu, who was by his side when he fell asleep, when he woke, and every single second in between. Changgu, who cared for him, who was there for him, who never left him. Changgu, his Changgu, who he wanted back then, who he still wants now, no matter how much he tries to convince himself otherwise.

Changgu had sworn that he’d bring Hyojong back, but right after, he returned to Heaven without another word, and Hongseok was left to his own devices yet again. There wasn’t much he could do, but he hung around Hwitaek more often than he cared to, just in case he needed to step in. And he’d been trying to get his message across, to help Hwitaek remember, but it was hard to get into his head, hard to get past Hwitaek’s own troubling concerns. It was difficult to get through to Hyunggu as well, almost impossible to compel someone so outspoken, the boy’s thoughts still unmoving with every push that Hongseok gave. But with Yuto, it was almost too easy.

All it took was one whisper, the words spoken into his ear, and they had flowed out of Yuto’s lips as if they were his own.

_Maybe you’re not missing something. Maybe you’re missing someone._

Hongseok had wondered if it was a mistake, to use Yuto that way, like a pawn in this game that they’re playing, but when he sees Hwitaek walk out of the apartment, headed in a familiar direction, he knows he’d done the right thing.

Hwitaek isn’t sure where he’s going, isn’t sure why he’s even out here at this time, but he thinks that he might finally snap if he’s trapped in that room any longer. He’s lived there on his own for a while now, but for some reason, it felt too empty. For some reason, it didn’t feel like home anymore.

So he’d gone out, in hopes that he could rid himself of the chills that his dreams had left behind, still unsure what it was that he saw.

Hwitaek used to run, used to get up at this hour, put on his shoes and just run, to wherever, for however long. But his morning classes forced him to get some sleep instead, because there was no way he could keep up with classes and work and everything in between if he’d already used up all his energy so early in the day.

Still, even after he’d quit running for so long, his feet seem to know where to go, carrying him along the narrow streets of their town, leading him to wherever he’s meant to go.

Except, when his steps come to a halt, he finds himself standing in the middle of an abandoned park, one that should be unfamiliar, yet Hwitaek can’t shake the feeling that he’s been here before. He takes a look around, at the patchy field of grass, at the old playground, at the dark trees looming over him, and a shudder wracks his frame. There was no way he could’ve been here before, there was no reason for him to be here. It’s a wasteland, but he can’t seem to bring himself to leave.

And well, he’s already here anyway, and there’s no point in turning around now, so he drops himself onto the ground, laying out on his back, eyes blinking up at the murky sky. It’s almost sunrise, he can tell, and for a moment, he’s content to just lie there and wait for the morning sun wash over him.

But Hwitaek feels an itch, an urge that just won’t die, and before he can help it, he hears himself ask, “Can anyone hear me?”

He knows it’s silly, knows that he’s just speaking into the void, and he’s never been much of a believer, but he likes to think that there is some kind of higher power up there.

“If anyone can hear me, God, angels, whoever,” he continues, still looking up at the vast sky, watching as stars begin to fade. “I need your help.”

He’s asked for help from the heavens before, just months ago, whispering quiet prayers on a night when desperation had overcome him. He didn’t think that he’d get an answer, he didn’t have faith in things like that after all, but all the little things that had happened since then were proof that someone had heard him. Jinho, Wooseok, Shinwon, it was all an answer to his wish. But he thinks it was the wrong answer.

“I asked you to help me find love,” Hwitaek says, a sad tilt to his tone that rings clear in the empty park. “But I think I found the wrong ones. And now, I need you to help me again. I need you to be right this time.”

Out of habit, he reaches for the ring on his finger, tracing over it again and again, just to know that it’s there, an odd comfort that he’s gotten used to.

And Hwitaek says, “I need you to help me remember. Whatever it is, whoever it is, I need to remember. I want to remember.”

Then, as if answering him, the first stream of daylight hits him, almost glaring in his eyes and his hand moves up to cover his face, sunshine glinting off of his ring instead and-

Hwitaek sits up, holding up his hand against the sun again, watching his ring glow, and it’s only then that he sees it, a word, a _name,_ engraved in the silver, burning as bright as the light he’d seen in his dreams.

_Dawn._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tadadadadadadadaaaaaaa come yell at me in the comments/[twitter](https://twitter.com/ao3kino)/[curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/ao3kino) xoxoxo


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